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* 


HARRY. 


PART  I. 

Love  caught  his  heart  in  a  lovely  surprise, 

Just  the  first  moment  he  looked  in  my  eyes  : 

Poor  little  eyes !  by  no  prescience  lit, 

They  saw  him  three  weeks  ere  I  lov'd  him  one  bit. 

Fair  is  the  book*  where  we  read  of  a  life 
Porn  to  a  throne,  taking  love  for  its  bliss, 
Self  reproach  wounding  the  sweet  royal  wife 
For  keeping  two  years  he  had  asked  for  as  his. 

*  See  '  Life  of  Prince  Consort,'  vol.  i. 


2  HARRY. 

So  /might  suffer  a  sort  of  remorse, 

Thinking  of  days  that  I  cared  not,  yet  knew ; 

Only,  he  says,  '  'Tis  a  matter  of  course 

Girls  should  be  woo'd  and  their  lovers  should  woo. 


Only,  the  blossom  he  stoops  not  to  touch, 
Sparkling  with  beauty  that  lies  at  his  feet ; 
Only,  the  blossom  he  coveteth  much, 
Is  one  that  shineth  as  distant  as  sweet. 


Only,  a  bird  may  fly  helplessly  near, 
Chirping  aloud  in  a  manner  too  free ; 
Only,  the  bird  he  delighteth  to  hear, 
Sings  from  the  far-away  top  of  a  tree. 

Is  it  for  this  he  first  fancied  me,  then  ? 
He  to  whom  earth  her  allegiance  brings, 
Noblest  of  nobles,  a  king  among  men, 
Hero  of  heroes  !  a  god  among  kings  ! 


HARRY. 
'Twill  be  very  nice  to  be  very  old, 

r 

And  with  wrinkled  brows  and  eyes  that  are  dim, 
To  s;t  by  the  fire  and  in  dreams  behold 
The  face  of  the  child  that  was  woo'd  by  him. 

Eve  in  her  Eden,  belov'd  and  preferr'd, 
Sun,  moon,  and  stars  for  her  benefit  made, 
Bright  as  a  blossom  and  gay  as  a  bird, 
•   Earth  at  her  feet  like  a  pleasure-ground  laid  ; 


•* 


All  things  about  her  benignant  and  fair — 
Was  she  of  Adam  an  actual  part? 
Love  shining  over  her  everywhere — 
Had  he  no  trouble  in  winning  her  heart  ? 

Born  with  a  mind  even  Kant  must  admit 
Had  no  antecedents  for  doubt  or  regret, 
Only  white  paper  where  nothing  is  writ, 
Was  she  his  wife  the  first  moment  they  met? 
Did  she  no  gradual  wooing  receive  ? 
Was  she  never  a  girl? — I  am  sorry  for  Eve  ! 


4  HARRY. 

Or  if  like  others  her  history  sped, 
In  those  lovely  regions  to  mortals  unknown ; 
Flirting  and  courting  and  woo'd  ere  she  wed, 
Was  the  bird  of  her  paradise  Eve's  chaperone  ? 

1  wonder  if  Adam  my  fancy  would  strike 
As  something  like  Harry  ! — what  is  Harry  like  ? 
Handsome  and  tall,  with  command  in  his  eye, 
The  sweetest  of  smiles  giving  sternness  the  lie  ; 
His  soldierly  bearing  keeps  foemen  at  bay  ; 
His  hair  is  clipped  close  in  the  orthodox  way  ; 
His  nose  has  a  curve  from  the  bridge  to  the  tip  : 
A  statue  might  envy  his  short  upper  lip. 
He  dances  divinely,  and  walks  with  an  air 
Half  autocratic  and  half  debonair, 
With  something  about  him  no  words  can  define  : 
Eve,  was  your  hero  as  handsome  as  mine  ? 


HARRY. 


And  oh  !  the  years  that  pass'd  over  my  head 
When  I  was  leisurely  growing  or  grown  ; 
.    And  oh  !  the  minutes  that  suddenly  led 

To  the  sweetest  thought  that  ever  was  known. 


Only  one  glad  little  glance  that  I  gave, 
Where  by  the  window  the  passion  flower  grew, 
And  a  strong  man  was  turn'd  into  a  slave, 
Watching  and  waiting  for  all  that  I  do. 

And  a  strong  man's  heart  beat  only  for  me — 
Only  for  me  while  it  answers  life's  call  ; 
Till  /was  compell'd  to  hear  and  to  see; 
And  only  one  little  look  did  it  all ! 


6  HARRY. 

Oh,  such  an  infinitesimal  thing  ! 

One  unthought-of  minute  hurrying  by, 

And  the  whole  of  two  lives  yet  in  their  spring 

Are  utterly  chang'd  for  ever  and  aye  ! 


If  with  idle  heart  and  with  careless  eyes 
I  had  not  happened  just  there  and  just  then 
To  smile  at  a  flower  beneath  the  skies, 
Should  I  never,  have  lov'd  the  first  of  men  ? 


Had  he  seen  me  first  in  a  festal  hour, 
Or  riding,  or  driving,  or  by  the  sea, 
And  not  with  a  smile  for  the  passion-flower, 
Would  he  never,  never  have  cared  for  me  ? 

Who  planted  the  root,  and  its  climbing  plann'd  ? 
Who  water'd  below  or  cherish'd  above  ? 
Is  it  the  work  of  a  gardener's  hand 
That  causes  my  Harry  and  me  to  love  ? 


HARRY. 

Had  that  gardener  never  been  born  or  hir'd, 

Or  done  this  one  insignificant  thing  ; 

Had  the  passion-flower  died  ; — my  heart  is  tir'd 

With  the  troublesome  sudden  thoughts  that  spring ; 

And  mine  eyes  are  filling  with  foolish  tears, 

And  the  pang  that  I  feel  is  sharp  and  keen, 

As  I  see  the  empty  unhappy  years, 

And  I  think  of  all  that  might  not  have  been. 


Treason  to  love,  that  such  thoughts  should  arise  ! 
In  Heaven  I  know  our  marriage  was  made  ; 
Heaven  is  somewhere  beyond  those  blue  skies, 
Why  am  I  weeping  and  feeling  afraid  ? 

Happy  the  angels,  who  tenderly  plan 
These  beautiful  compacts  to  glorify  man  ! 
Happy  the  man  and  the  woman  who  take 
1  [umbly  their  crown  for  the  dear  angels'  sake  ! 


8  HARRY. 

Love  in  our  hearts  giving  strength  to  endure, 
Eternal  itself,  makes  eternity  sure  ; 
Earth  growing  perfect,  unspeakably  dear, 
Only  makes  heaven  seem  yet  more  near. 

Why  do  I  tremble  in  fanciful  doubt? 
All  things — or  nothing — had  brought  it  about  ; 
Whatever  might  happen,  I  must  be  his; 
What  signifies  talking,  since  so  it  is] 


HARRY. 


So  there  came  the  last  of  the  careless  days : 
Did  time  in  the  very  same  manner  move  ? 
(My  heart  almost  stops  in  a  mute  amaze 
To  think  that  it  ever  was  not  in  love.) 

Up  in  the  morning,  as  gay  as  a  lark, 
With  a  glad  good-bye  to  the  pleasant  night  ; 
Without  an  idea  I  am  in  the  dark, 
Or  that  just  beyond  is  the  real  light ; 

Running  down  stairs,  with  a  laugh  as  I  ran, 
Free  as  the  '  blossom  that  hangs  on  the  bough  '- 
I  never  had  given  a  thought  to  a  man, 
And  why  in  the  world  should  I  give  one  now  ? 


:o  HARRY 

Dancing  along  through  the  hawthorn-crown'd  lane, 
'Neath  showers  of  flowers  whose  name  I  bear, 
Was  it  not  strange  I  should  find  Harry  Vane 
Coming  to  meet  me  just  then  and  just  there  ? 


Is  it  for  this  our  two  lives  have  been  led, 
Each  travelling  on  its  different  way, 
To  meet  with  the  blue  sky  over  our  head 
Shaded    by  delicate  blossoms  of  May  ? 

Little  reck'd  I  whom  I  happened  to  meet, 
That  I  had  a  lover  I  never  guess'd 
As  I  danc'd  along  with  my  care) ess- feet, 
And  the  heart  of  a  child  within  my  breast. 

1  had  seen  him  a  dozen  times  before, 
With  a  pleasure  that  brought  no  sudden  change  ; 
I  knew  that  he  lik'd  me — but  nothing  more  : 
O  Harry  !  to  think  of  it  is  so  strange  ! 


HARRY.  ti 

Sauntering  on  with  the  birds  and  the  flowers, 
Talking  of  things  that  we  know  or  we  knew — 
Of  the  pretty  wishes  that  once  were  ours 

In  long-ago  times  when  our  years  were  few : 

* 

A  wild  little  bird  skims  rapidly  by  ; 

And  I  tell  of  a  day  when  my  heart  was  stirr'd, 

And  I  cried  as  only  a  child  can  cry, 

That  I  was  a  girl  instead  of  a  bird. 

'  And  oh  ! '  in  an  eager  manner  I  cried, 

'I  am  feeling  the  very  same  wish  to-day  : 

Oh  for  two  wild  wings,  and  to  spread  them  wide, 

And  rush  through  the  sky  away  and  away.' 

I  cast  up  my  eyes,  to  the  smiling  skies, 
And  smiling  I  lower'd  their  glance  again, 
And  as  they  were  lower'd  they  met  his  eyes, 
And  a  thrill  went  through  me  of  sweetest  pain. 


12  HARRY. 

J  blush' d  when  I  thought  of  my  eager  words- 
But  why  do  I  blush  ?  and  why  do  I  care? 
What  does  it  matter  to  me  and  the  birds, 
Or  the  pretty  blossoms  or  scented  air  ? 

'  And  I,'  he  replied,  '  have  my  wishes  too  : 
Time  teaches  the  real  meaning  of  things  ; 
And  only  this  moment,  looking  at  you, 
I  felt  that  an  angel  need  not  have  wings.' 


We  had  sauntered  on  to  the  garden  gate  : 

He  look'd  in  my  eyes  ere  we  turn'd  to  part : 

I  walk'd  away  in  a  manner  sedate, 

And  with  something  new  just  touching  my  heart. 


HARRY.  13 


When  the  first  violet  open'd  in  bloom, 
Was  it  surpris'd  at  its  lovely  perfume? 
Why  does  not  History  tell  us,  who  met 
First,  the  sweet  breath  of  the  first  violet  ? 
Rather  I'd  know  it  than  facts  that  are  .known — 
As  when  some  tyrant  ascended  some  throne, 
A  battle  was  fought,  a  comet  display' d, 
Coals  were  discover'd,  or  steam-engines  made. 

I  can  no  moment  recall,  ere  I  knew 
Perfumes  pertain' d  to  those  blossoms  of  blue  ; 
Had  the  first  knowledge  of  sweetness  like  this 
Touch'd  me  to-day,  what  perfection  of  bliss  ! 
Children  with  all  that  creation  can  grant 
Scarcely  will  miss  the  one  pleasure  I  want, 
Just  to  remember  the  day  and  the  hour 
When,  by  spring  breezes  caressingly  blown, 
Delicate  fragrance  of  violet  flower 
First  touch'd  my  senses,  becoming  my  own  ! 


14  HARRY 


And  what  can  it  be — oh,  what  can  it  be, 
That  has  garnish' d  earth  with  a  golden  grace  ? 
What  is  this  something  that  entering  me 
Changes  my  life  in  a  minute  of  space  ? 


When  I  first  notic'd  the  power  in  his  eyes — 
Watching  to  see  if  they  praise  or  condemn, 
Blushing  to  meet  them — came  into  the  skies 
Beauty  that  never  has  vanish' d  from  them. 

When  I  first  stopp'd  in  the  midst  of  my  mirth, 
While  my  heart  beat  in  a  tremulous  way 
Only  to  see  him, — came  over  the  earth, 
Glory  that  earth  has  retain'd  to  this  day. 


HARRY.  15 

When  the  first  whisper  assaulted  my  ear, 
'When  the  first  pressure  astonish' d  my  hand, 
When  I  first  fancied  that  /might  be  dear — 

Life  was  a  miracle  joyous  and  grand. 

0 

When  he  first  woo'd  me  with  prayers,  for  his  own, 
Suddenly  came  an  eclipse  of  the  light  : 
Sighing,  I  wish'd  he  would  let  me  alone  ; 
*••    Smiling,  I  long'd  to  hide  out  of  his  sight. 

Life  being  lit  by  a  fairy-like  gleam, 
Sparkling  and  glittering,  tender  and  pure, 
Was  not  he  stupid  to  change  such  a  dream 
Into  reality  tame  and  secure  ? 

'Tis  sweet  to  find  I  am  wrong  in  the  thought, 
Joy  is  but  brighter  for  being  confess' d  ; 
Every  moment  has  happiness  brought, 
ry  stage  of  true  love  is  the  best. 


16  HARRY. 


They  wish  me  at  home  to  sit  and  to  sew — 
And  I  like  to  do  what  my  aunt  thinks  right — 
But  the  stitching  never  seem'd  half  so  slow, 
Nor  zigzagg'd  itself  as  it  did  one  night. 

And  my  work  kept  slipping  out  of  my  hand 
As  wonderful  thoughts  came  into  my  head : 
Sure,  life  is  becoming  too  bright  and  grand 
To  be  given  up  to  needles  and  thread ! 

I  was  thinking  of  words  that  Harry  spake, 
And  of  looks  that  more  than  mere  words  betray, 
With  a  joy  as  pure  as  the  first  snow-flake, 
And  almost  as  ready  to  melt  away. 


HARRY.  17 

And  with  little  tears  beginning  to  start, 
And  with  smiles  and  blushes  that  come  and  go ; 
And  I  did  not  know  what  was  in  my  heart, 
Or  else  I  pretended  I  did  not  know  ! 

0  sudden  awaking  from  dream  so  fair  ! 

'Tis  the  voice  of  my  aunt,  and  I  hear  it  say — 
'  Child,  are  you  falling  asleep  in  your  chair  ? 
*Will  you  ever  finish  that  collar,  May  ? ' 

1  caught  up  my  work  (I  knew  I  was  wrong), 
Determin'd  to  finish  it  ere  we  sup  ; 

But  something  within  me,  for  me  too  strong, 
Conquer'd  myself,  and  I  had  to  give  up. 

'O,  my  Aunt  Bridget,'  I  timidly  said, 
'  I  am  tired  of  stitching — I  want  to  rest ; 
O  let  me  gather  the  roses  instead, 
The  young  little  roses  the  first  and  best.' 


1 8  HARRY. 

Soft  summer  twilights  caressing  the  air 
Have  buried  the  garden  in  lovely  gloom  ; 
But  I  knew  that  the  eagerest  roses  there 
Were  just  beginning  to  think  they  might  bloom. 


The  pretty  wee  stars  kept  peeping  about, 
And  even  peep'd  in  through  our  prison  bars, 
As  she  gravely  said,  '  Who  ever  went  out 
To  gather  a  rose  by  the  light  of  stars  ?  " 


My  heart  beat  fast  at  the  beautiful  phrase ; 
She  had  not  intended  it,  I  suppose, 
But  I  felt  I  could  love  her  all  my  days, 
If  under  the  stars  I  might  pluck  one  rose  ! 

Pleading  my  cause  in  so  ardent  a  way, 
Almost  evoking  an  answering  glow, 
Crying,  '  You  once  were  as  young  and  as  gay  - 
Then,  she  smil'd  a  little  and  let  me  go. 


HARRY. 

'Tvvas  pleasure  enough  to  be  out  of  doors  ; 
1 1  look'd  at  the  stars  and  I  felt  content : 
But  it  never  rains,  you  know,  but  it  pours, 
And  the  path  that  I  had  to  go — I  went ! 

0 

Playing  with  fancies,  in  fanciful  play, 

•  If  I  want  a  rose,'  I  demurely  said, 

1 1  must  look  for  an  omen  to  point  the  way, 

And  I  must  look  for  it  over  my  head.' 


So  I  found  a  star  that  shone  in  the  sky, 
And  mark'd  how  it  glitter'd  down  on  a  tree, 
And  felt — but  I  swear  that  I  know  not  why — 
There  grow  the  roses  intended  for  me  ! 


And  as  I  approach  the  shadowy  boughs 
That  are  spreading  out  over  earth  and  air, 
A  gay  little  miracle  fate  allows, 
And  the  star  appears  to  be  sparkling  there!- 


•9 


2o  HARRY. 

Gladly  I  ran  o'er  the  daisy-clad  plain, 
Led  by  the  shimmering  light  of  the  star, 
And  under  the  tree  I  found — Harry  Vane 
Lying,  and  smoking  a  '  mild  cigar  ! ' 

I  started  astonish' d — he  stood  upright, 

And  said,  in  a  voice  persuasively  kind, 

'  Don't  you  knoiu  that  I  come  here  every  night, 

To  see  your  shadow  flit  by  on  the  blind  ?  ' 


I  look'd  where  he  pointed,  as  if  'twas  I 
Could  see  my  own  phantom  flicker  and  pass, — 
And  Aunt  Bridget's  shadow  mov'd  solemnly  by, 
Over  the  canvas  that  hangs  by  the  glass ! 


Oh,  how  could  we  help  it  ? — we  laugh' d  aloud 
(Birds  never  cease  their  sweet  voices  in  spring ; 
And  I  think  in  youth  little  laughters  crowd 
And  spring  to  our  lips  at  everything  !) 


HARRY.  21 

In  laughter  we  lost  all  sense  of  surprise  ; 
It  seem'd  only  natural  we  should  meet ; 
And  a  star  shot  flaming  across  the  skies, 
And  a  little  glow-worm  gleam' d  at  my  feet. 

And  a  distant  bell  swung  its  solemn  chime, 
That  seem'd  to  me  like  the  voice  of  a  star ; 
And  I  think,  through  a  century  of  time, 
I  shall  always  believe  that  such  things  are. 

And  then — it  was  then — he  spoke,  and  I  heard  ; 
And  the  moon  rose  up,  and  the  stars  grew  dim, 
And  all  of  a  sudden  the  nightingale-bird 
Triumphantly  chanted  her  jubilant  hymn. 


22  HARRY. 


What  are  you  singing  about,  little  birds, 
Twittering  loudly  in  lime-tree  and  oak  ? 
Telling  each  other  the  wonderful  words 
On  a  sweet  May  evening  a  lover  spoke  ? 


Butterflies,  floating  away  from  the  trees, 
With  blossom-like  wings  of  delicate  dye, 
You  are  bearing  tidings  certain  to  please, 
Scatter  them  freely,  but  do  not  ask  why. 

Two  lovers  stood  'neath  a  star-lighted  sky, 
Half  fearfully  touching  enchanted  ground  : 
One  lover  was  Harry,  and  one  was  I, 
And  the  world  went  merrily  round  and  round. 


HARRY. 

Souls  rushing  together  from  distant  parts, 
Vows  utter'd  that  cannot  be  ever  undone  ; 
A  minute  ago  two  lives  and  two  hearts, 
Through  time  and  eternity  now  but  one. 

O  foolish  butterflies  !  chattering  birds  ! 
Instinct  in  vain  with  humanity  strives  ; 
You  can't  understand  the  wonderful  words 
Ur  magical  kisses  that  changed  two  lives ! 


24  HARR  V. 


What  is  nature  made  for  ?  is  it  for  us 

The  beautiful  world  is  burnish' d  and  blent  ? 

If  we  had  not  eyes,  would  blossoms  shine  thus  ? 

If  we  had  not  nostrils,  would  they  have  scent  ? 


I  heard  a  philosopher  say — in  isles 
Surrounded  by  ocean,  apart,  alone, 
With  no  living  creature  to  reckon  miles, 
Wherein  life  had  never  been  born  or  known. 


That  the  clouds  with  electric  flash  may  meet, 
And  thunder  may  rattle  its  dreadful  breath, 
Yet  never  a  sound  break  the  rest  complete, 
Or  the  silence  of  this  eternal  death  ; 


HARRY.  25 

That  the  fierce  storm-wind  may  bluster  and  blow, 
Tearing  the  trees  from  the  root-broken  ground, 
Or  the  wild  sea-surf  may  leap  and  may  Row 
In  solemn  silence  with  never  a  sound. 


For  sound  is  but  the  vibrations  of  air 

That  strike  on  the  drum  of  the  living  ear ; 

So  if  never  a  living  ear  is  there, 

There  is  nothing  to  strike  and  nothing  to  hear. 


Though  the  vibrations  move  on,  and  live, 
And  thus  the  law  of  their  being  obey, 
'Tis  the  ear  produces  the  sound  they  give — 
That's  what  I  heard  a  philosopher  say. 


So  if  thunder,  roll'd  through  quivering  air, 
With  that  awful  silence  reigning  around, 
And  you  or  I  suddenly  landed  there, 
All  Nature  would  break  at  once  into  sound 


26  HARRY. 

It  seems  very  strange  and  eerie,  you  know  ; 
I  don't  understand  how  it  is — do  you  ? 
But  a  philosopher  said  it,  so 
I  really  suppose  that  it  must  be  true. 

And  is  not  there  something  in  human  hearts 
(Mountains,  you  know,  must  spring  out  of  the  flat) 
That  at  Love's  light  touch  into  music  starts  ? 
Ah,  what  would  philosophers  say  to  thaft 


HARRY.  27 


There  never  was  summer  so  bright  as  this, 
And  the  world  will  always  be  burnished  thus  ; 
For  if  Love  the  magical  painter  is, 
He  for  ever  will  paint  the  same  for  us. 

Tis  a  light  within  that  illumes  the  land  ; 
And  free  as  the  birds  from  sorrow  or  strife, 
Very  close  together,  and  hand  in  hand, 
We  shall  walk  on  through  unlimited  life. 

1  Ah,  Harry  ! '  I  cried,  '  I  shall  lean  on  you  / 
'Tis  the  purest  joy  to  look  up  so  high  ; 
You  will  teach  me  all  that  I  ought  to  do  ; 
On  your  noble  strength  can  my  steps  rely. 


28  UARR  V. 

I  hope  that  you  know  I  am  very  weak, 
Only  a  poor  little  thing  at  the  best ; 
But  children  can  love  before  they  can  speak, 
And  I  hope  that  love  will  make  up  the  rest.' 

Oh  beautiful  pathway,  untouched  by  care  ; 
Oh  you  scattered  roses  on  which  we  tread  ; 
You  lead  to  a  church  with  its  holy  prayer, 
And  its  Heaven-blessing  over  us  shed  ! 


HARRY.  29 


Nightingales  singing  an  exquisite  tune 
All  the  sweet  music  for  me  and  for  you, 
Saying  my  prayers  by  the  light  of  the  moon, 
Happy  the  prayers  that  are  utter'd  for  two  ! 


Stars  in  the  depth  of  a  fathomless  space, 
Summer-blue  sky  by  no  shadow  o'ercast, 
Joy  pointing  on  to  a  far-away  grace 
Brighter  than  e'en  the  beneficent  past ; 

Trouble  to  measureless  distances  fled, 
Death  too  remote  to  be  worthy  a  sigh — 
Can  there  be  any  one  sorry  or  dead  ? 
Sorrow  or  death  'neath  a  summer-blue  sky? 


30  HARRY. 

Was  there  a  moment  we  never  had  met  ? 
Was  there  a  time  unexalted  by  him  ? 
Shone  the  same  lustre  in  suns  when  they  set? 
Sparkled  the  river  with  joy  to  the  brim  ? 


Glitter'd  the  blue  over  heaven  and  sea? 
Flutter'd  the  birds  to  a  musical  call  ? 
Could  he  be  happy  unconscious  of  me  ? 
And,  without  Harry,  what  was  I  at  all  ? 

I  stand  on  a  rock  where  two  rivers  meet, 
With  a  life  behind  and  a  life  before  ; 
And  one  is  ebbing  away  from  my  feet, 
And  the  other  is  rising  more  and  more. 

Ah,  poor  little  maiden  !  ah,  dear  little  wife  ! 
Ah,  days  that  are  past  and  days  that  will  come ! 
The  past  is  nothing — this  only  is  life ; 
I  am  going  with  him  and  am  going  Home. 


HARRY.  31 


And  such  a  sweet  pretty  home  as  it  is  ! 
What  shall  I  do  with  my  exquisite  bliss? 
How  can  I  ever  be  charming  enough, 
Where  rumpling  a  roseleaf  will  make  the  path  rough  ? 
"^low  can  I  thank  the  great  Father  above 
For  showing  His  child  such  abundance  of  love  ? 
With  Harry  a  home  in  a  hovel  were  sweet, 
And  this  is  a  palace  that  lies  at  my  feet. 

I  look  at  the  gardens  spread  out  in  the  sun, 

Where  every  rosebud  a  prize  might  have  won  ; 

Where  lilies  lift  up  tinted  crowns  to  the  skies, 

And  clematis  strike  you  aghast  by  their  size  ; 

Where  lawns  smooth  as  ice  tempt  your  feet  as  they  pass, 

Though  only  a  fairy  should  tread  on  such  grass ; 

And  big  forest  trees  on  the  slopes,  spread  afar 

Those  branches  that  grander  than  anything  are. 


32  HARRY. 

I  sweep  through  the  rooms  where  the  mirrors  portray 

A  slender  young  thing  in  a  robe  of  pale  gray, 

And  catching  quick  glimpses,  now  here  and  now  there, 

I  own  with  delight  she  is  graceful  and  fair ; 

I  study  the  creature,  and  smile  as  I  see 

How  handsome  a  woman  one  day  she  may  be  ; 

I  draw  myself  up  with  a  stately  expanse 

And  try  to  look  grand,  while  I'm  longing  to  dance 

I  flourish,  I  curtsey,  I  slip  and  I  slide  ; — 

This  will  do  for  a  wife,  this  is  fit  for  a  bride. 

I  smile  and  T  bow,  in  a  dignified  way, 

And  even  shake  hands  with  the  lady  in  gray ; 

Then  draw  back  astonish'd,  afraid  to  offend, 

It  is  all  a  mistake,  and  she  is  not  a  friend. 

In  a  moment  sweeps  over  the  vision  a  change 

Deliciously  sweet  and  suddenly  strange, 

A  blush  in  the  cheek  and  a  light  in  the  eyes ; — 

A  step  in  the  passage,  to  meet  it  she  flies, 

And  still  in  the  mirror  I  mark  the  embrace, 

Where  the  strong  manly  arms  hide  the  small  blushing  face. 


-~d 


HARRY.  33 


When  the  sun  rises  early  to  call  people  out, 
There  is  nothing  so  sweet  as  to  wander  about, 
"^k.  hand  on  an  arm  or  an  arm  round  a  waist, 
In  lover-like  leisure  or  holiday  haste. 
Then,  all  is  delightful  we  see  or  we  hear, 
And  speaking  or  silence  are  equally  dear ; 
The  earth  at  our  feet  of  an  emerald  hue, 
The  Heaven  above  us  incredibly  blue, 
The  flowers  baptiz'd  with  miraculous  dew. 

While  yet  the  sky  blushes  to  welcome  the  sun, 
Through  the  gay  gardens  we  stroll  and  we  run  ; 
In  fields  where  lambs  gambol  less  happy  than  we, 
Glittering  grass  makes  a  sheen  like  the  sea; 
Birds  unexpectedly  set  up  a  chant, 
Adding  a  joy  that  the  world  seem'd  to  want. 


34  HARRY. 

Creation  is  made  for  our  pleasure  alone  ; 
Adam  and  Eve,  with  no  sin  to  atone, 
Knowledge  untasted,  less  rapture  have  known  ! 


Keeping  by  Harry,  a  friend  who  is  fond 
Follows  as  closely  as  follow  he  can  : 
Is  there  an  earthly  affection  beyond 
The  love  a  good  dog  feels  for  a  good  man  ? 


If  twenty  people  fling  down  twenty  gloves 
Our  Rover  has  never  been  known  to  fail ; 
He  picks  out  the  glove  of  the  man  he  loves, 
And  brings  it  triumphantly,  wagging  his  tail. 


Rover  and  I,  under  shadowy  yew, 
List'ning  for  Harry's  dear  step  on  the  path — 
He  always  hears  it  the  first  of  the  two, 
Which  gives  me  a  feeling  half  joy,  half  wrath. 


HARRY.  35 


By  divers  states  can  our  spirits  be  mov'd 
Our  hearts  will  answer  to  many  a  touch ; 
We  love  one  creature  for  being  much  lov'd, 
And  we  love  another  for  loving  much. 

By  delicate  touches  our  souls  are  stirr'd, 
*     Fraught  with  a  meaning  life  never  reveals  : 
I  wonder  the  Bible  says  not  a  word 
Of  the  faithful  love  that  a  good  dog  feels. 


36  HARRY. 


Good  aie  the  mornings  for  birds  in  a  nest, 
Fluttering  out  from  a  beautiful  home  ; 
Good  are  the  mornings,  but  evenings  are  best, 
Seeking  its  shelter  nor  asking  to  roam. 

Life,  like  a  secret,  is  too  much  for  one — 
May  be  too  little  where  numbers  are  great — 
All  may  be  vanity  under  the  sun. 
But  all  is  charming  when  done  tete  a  tete. 

Neighbours  will  call — what  a  trouble  it  is  ! 
Dinners  and  parties  are  made  for  our  sake  : 
Why  must  society  trouble  our  bliss  ? 
Dinners  and  neighbours  are  quite  a  mistake  ! 


•* 


HARRY.  37 

r 

Drest  as  a  bride,  I  must  dine  at  the  Grange  ; 
Harry  beside  me,  I  have  not  a  care  ; 
Only  it  seems  so  exceedingly  strange 
Not  to  be  thinking  of  meeting  him  there  ! 

Jane  does  my  hair  with  a  skill,  I  confess, 
Smilingly  thinking  of  days  that  are  gone, 
When  for  a  party  I  ran  up  to  dress 
With  neither  a  husband  nor  maid  of  my  own. 

Life  that  is  past,  did  you  certainly  pass  ? 
When  were  you  actual  ?  how  did  you  change  ? 
Who  is  this  girl  that  I  see  in  the  glass 
Thinking  of  things  that  are  happy  and  strange  ? 

Who  is  this  man  who  may  enter  the  room, 
Placidly  certain  his  presence  must  please, 
Settle  her  colours,  select  her  perfume, 
Hands  in  his  pockets  serenely  at  ease  : 


38  HARRY. 

Who  can  the  girl  be,  and  who  is  the  man  ? 
Light-hearted  creatures  who  live  but  to  love  ! 
'Tis  the  result  of  the  Angels'  kind  plan, 
One  of  the  marriages  made  up  above  ! 

Hand  laid  in  hand  to  the  stairs  we  advance, 
Feet  scarcely  touching  the  carpet  at  all : 
Why  should  they  walk  who  are  able  to  dance  ? 
Clasping  each  other,  we  waltz  through  the  hall ! 


Pleasant  the  drive  in  the  twilight's  soft  gloom  ; 
Dazzling  the  change  to  society's  light ; 
Proud  of  my  Harry  I  enter  the  room, 
Every  eye  on  my  gallant  young  knight. 

Lovely  the  welcome  around  me  I  see — 
Will  it  be  thus  through  a  beautiful  life  ? 
Everybody  attentive  to  me, 
And  only  because  I  am  Harry's  wife  ? 


HARRY.  39 


Dear  to  my  heart  are  the  glitter  and  grace  ; 
But  nothing  so  charming,  or  bright,  is  here 
As  the  gracious  smile  upon  Harry's  face, 
Or  his  manly  voice  as  it  greets  my  ear. 


As  from  the  banquet  the  ladies  depart 
»    I  hear  two  gentlemen  murmuring  low — 
'  The  Captain  has  got  an  excellent  start 
But  he  won't  set  the  Thames  on  fire,  you  know ! ' 


Then  I  look  back  and  attempt  to  decide 
Who  is  this  Captain  who  must  not  aspire ; 
I  meet  Harry's  eyes,  and  I  smile  with  pride, 
For  I  know  he  could  set  the  Thames  on  fire  ! 


Afterwards  music  ;  he  sings  and  I  sing, 
She  sings  and  they  sing,  and  minutes  flit  past : — 
Harmony  certainly  quickens  Time's  wing, 
And  the  lark  sings  loudest  when  flying  fast. 


4Q  HARR  Y. 


His  Song. 

Must  he  toil  beneath  the  sun 
Who  has  nothing  else  to  do  ? 
What's  the  use  of  such  a  one  ? 
I  know  not — pray  do  you  ? 
Skies  are  not  aflame  for  him  ; 
He  converses  not  with  elves  ; 
Primroses  on  river's  brim 
Can  be  nothing  but  themselves. 

Need  he  interfere  with  me, 
Who  care  only  to  be  blest  ? 
Go  thy  way,  unhappy  bee, 
Leave  a  butterfly  at  rest. 
Butterflies  with  painted  wings 
Are  a  part  of  Nature's  plan  ; 
Is  not  every  bird  that  sings, 
Wiser  than  a  busy  man  ? 


HARRY.  41 

r 

Harry's  rich  tenor  delighteth  my  ears 

Oft  a?  I  hear  it ;  'tis  ever  the  same  ; 

Brings  to  my  eyes  a  soft  soupfon  of  tears, 

Sends  from  my  heart  little  thrills  through  my  frame. 


•     My  Song. 

When  the  sea 

Speaks  to  me, 
Sure  I  may  reply  to  it; 

When  the  skies 

Catch  my  eyes, 
I  must  smile  a  little  bit. 

When  the  trees 

Try  to  please. 
With  their  buds  and  blossoms  new, 

Shall  I  dare 

Not  to  care 


For  a  world  so  bright  and  true  ? 


42  HARRY. 

Earth  and  sky, 

Tell  me  why 
Sorrow  ever  comes  between  ? 

Is  it  you, 

Heaven  blue  ? 
[s  it  you,  my  earth  so  green  ? 

Is  it  there 

In  the  air 
That  you  neither  of  you  touch  ? 

Is  the  wind 

So  unkind 
When  I  love  its  kiss  so  much  ? 


Let  it  be 

Earth  or  sea, 
Skies  or  breezes  as  they  move, 

Earth  is  sweet, 

'Neath  my  feet, 
Heaven  sweeter  yet  above  ; 


HARRY.  43 


And  the  air 

Ev'rywhere 
Is  the  sweetest  of  the  three ; 

I  will  take, 

For  their  sake, 
Anything  they  bring  to  me  ! 


* 


Men  flocking  round  me,  I  find  I'm  admir'd  ; 
Praise  is  as  sweet  as  a  gratified  whim  ; 
When  a  girl  pleases  she  never  feels  tir'd — 
Harry  smiles  at  me,  and  I  smile  at  him. 
Through  the  open  doors  of  a  crystal  dome 
Sweet  is  the  scent  of  the  tropical  flowers, 
The  splendid  exiles  who,  banish' d  from  home, 
Are  sparkling  and  shining  to  gladden  ours. 
Figures  appearing  'mid  blossom  and  fruit, 
In  an  airy,  fairy,  magical  way  ; 
Their  lips  keep  moving  altho'  they  are  mute 
For  ears  too  distant  to  hear  what  they  say. 


44  HARRY. 

From  a  lily  bud  can  a  voice  be  sent  ? — 
'  Let  us  hope  the  Captain's  wild  oats  are  sown, 
A  pretty  young  wife  should  make  him  content '- 
Only  a  word  in  a  soft-spoken  tone  ! 

Moving  serenely  'mid  beauty  and  song, 
Am  not  I  born  for  the  glittering  throng  ? 
Treading  on  roses  with  delicate  feet, 
Is  not  a  life  a  perpetual  treat  ? 
Can  we  be  more  than  delighted  and  blest 
Pleasure  is  beautiful — is  it  the  best  ? 
Highest  and  best  that  our  nature  can  know  ? 
Answer  my  heart — and  my  heart  answers  No. 
And  my  heart  answers,  '  more  beautiful  yet 
Life  is  for  those  who  leave  Home  with  regret, 
And  greet  it  again  as  the  sailor  greets  shore, 
Gaily  returning  to  life  gone  before.' 

Thus  from  the  banquet  two  lovers  depart, 
Owning  thy  truth,  lovely  voice  of  my  heart ; 


HARRY.  45 

t 
Seeking  a  home  that,  whatever  befall, 
Is  brighter  and  sweeter  and  dearer  than  all ; 
Better  than  all  that  the  world  can  decree, 
For  happy  young  creatures  like  Harry  and  me  ! 


Self-ordained  critics,  we  sit  at  our  ease, 
Life  spread  before  us  to  judge  as  we  please; 
Harry  in  quite  a  ridiculous  way 
Prates  about  wine,  like  a  swell  in  a  play ; 
Next,  the  made  dishes  proceeding  to  scan, 
With  wisdom  becoming  a  greedy  old  man  ; 
Looking  so  charmingly  youthful  and  gay, 
I  laugh  in  his  face  at  his  airs  of  gourmet ; 
/idmitting  myself  but  three  things  to  be  nice- 
Champagne,  lobster  salad,  and  strawberry  ice. 


Then  pass  the  people  in  sparkling  review  ; 
I  ask  fifty  questions  beginning  with  Who  ? 


46  HARRY. 

Midnight  approaches — a  sense  of  repose 
Floating  about  me,  my  eyelids  half  close  ; 
Rising,  I  languidly  say,  :  By  the  bye, 
Who  is  the  Captain  ? '  he  laughs  in  reply, 
Stands  up  in  front  of  me,  just  face  to  face, 
Makes  me  a  bow  with  an  air  and  a  grace  : 
'  The  Captain  this  moment  before  you,  you  see — 
That's  my  nickname  in  the  country,'  says  he. 
Pleasantly  sleepy  I  felt  ere  he  spake, 
Now  I  am  thoroughly  widely  awake  ; 
A  shock  passes  through  me  of  horrid  surprise, 
I  turn  upon  Harry  my  wondering  eyes, 
Catching  at  hopes,  as  the  drowning  at  straws, 
I  cry,  as  the  truth  for  a  moment  withdraws, 
'You're  quizzing  me,  Harry — that's  what  you're  at, 
It  cannot  be  you  that  they  speak  of  like  that  1 ' 
Then  he  insists  on  my  telling,  displeas'd 
At  any  concealment,  What  have  I  heard  ? 
Worried  and  wearied,  bewilder' d  and  teaz'd, 
I  blurt  it  out  and  repeat  every  word ! 


HARRY.  47 

t 

Harry  regards  me  with  almost  a  stare — 
Pulls  his  moustache  with  a  sort  of  amaze — 
Passes  his  hand  through  his  clustering  hair 
And — bursts  out  laughing,  as  if  it  was  praise  ! 
There  is  nothing  so  sweet  or  full  of  grace 
(Can  one  who  has  seen  it  ever  forget  ?) 
As  the  smile  that  comes  over  Harry's  face ; 
IT  is  Heaven  on  earth — and  yet — and  yet — 
I  feel  a  strange  chill  steal  into  my  heart — 
Should  he  permit  such  remarks  from  the  crowd  ? 
Can  it  be  their  part  ?     Can  it  be  his  part  ? 
They  the  mean  snobs  !  he  the  noble  and  proud  ! 


48  HARRY. 


No  shooting  to-day  of  partridge  or  snipe  ; 
It  has  steadily  rained  since  morning  broke, 
In  dancing  spirits  I  kindle  his  pipe 
(I  am  learning  to  like  the  smell  of  smoke !) 

He  has  given  up  such  a  deal  for  me  ! 
He  likes  to  give  up  his  bachelor  way  ; 
He  says  it  is  charming  not  to  be  free, 
So  he  only  smokes  one  pipe  in  the  day. 

Together  we  sit  in  his  little  room, 
Which  is  fitted  up  like  a  dainty  toy , 
And  if  without  there  is  darkness  and  gloom, 
Within  there  is  plenty  of  light  and  joy. 


HARRY. 

1  Tell  me  of  all  you  have  done,  if  you  can,' 

I  cry,'rsrs  the  pretty  smoke  lightly  curls ; 

I I  want  to  hear  of  the  life  of  a  man, 
I,  who  only  know  of  the  life  of  girls  ! ' 


49 


He  shakes  his  head  with  a  smile  and  a  nod, 
The  smoke  curling  round  it  with  idle  aim  ; 
He  is  like  the  picture  of  some  young  god, 
Who,  from  painted  clouds,  looks  out  of  a  frame. 


1  The  life  of  a  girl  is  a  fairy  thing, 

With  a  sweetness  none  can  wish  to  forget, 

Caught  from  a  snowdrop  in  earliest  spring 

Or  the  first  faint  breath  of  a  violet ; 

The  life  of  a  man,  as  it  is  and  was, 

Is  like  autumn  leaves  decaying  and  dead, 

With  a  flavour  of  bad  theatrical  gas, 

And  of  last  night's  banquet,'  my  husband  said. 


50  HARR  Y. 

I  laugh' d  at  the  gay  nonsensical  speech, 
In  my  merry  pride  at  being  his  wife  ; 
I  sat  at  his  feet,  and  I  bade  him  teach 
A  neophyte  out  of  his  noble  life. 

He  mutter' d  '  My  noble  life  !  '  with  a  frown, 

'  With  noble  lives  I  have  little  to  do ; 

My  dear,  put  those  frivolous  notions  down, 

I  am  but  a  man,  and  a  weak  one  too. 

My  life  has  been  full  of  confounded  things, 

I  am  only  a  man,  like  other  men ; 

But  we  hear  a  flutter  of  angel-wings, 

And  our  demons  forsake  us,  there  and  then. 

In  marrying  thee,  my  innocent  sprite, 

I  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  purer  joy  ; 

I  turn'd  a  new  page,  and  the  page  was  white  ; 

I'm  quite  determined  to  be  a  good  boy  !  ' 

His  hand  sought  my  head  with  a  careless  grace, 

And  the  sun  shone  suddenly  out  on  us ; 

O  gracious  and  sweet  was  my  Harry's  face, — 

Why  should  a  hero  belie  himself  thus  ? 


HARRY. 


51 


PART   II. 

When  turf  is  level  how  rapid  the  pace  ! 

i 

Linger  ye  moments  ! — be  patient  my  life  ! 

Marriage  is  only  an  idyl  of  grace, 

What  knows  a  bride  of  the  bliss  of  a  wife  ? 

Are  all  things  the  dearer  for  growing  old  ? 

As  flowers  are  sweeter  deep  in  a  wood  ; 

Will  the  warmth  of  May  in  July  seem  cold  ? 

Was  earth  less  perfect  when  God  call'd  it  '  good '  ? 

Even  roses  when  young  are  only  green, 
And  the  exquisite  perfume  faint  and  small, 
If  roses  are  lovely  when  just  half  seen, 
When  blown  they  are  sweetest  and  best  of  all. 


52  HARRY. 

Time  passes  on,  and  they  open  too  much  ; 
Still  the  rich  fragrance  about  them  is  shed ; 
Delicate  petals  fall  off  with  a  touch  ; 
Happy  and  mourn' d  for,  the  roses  are  dead  ! 


And  when  we  die  (if  death  ever  can  be, 
Life  leaping  in  me,  it  sounds  like  a  jest), 
May  it  be  thus  with  my  Harry  and  me — 
Love's  latest  perfume  its  sweetest  and  best. 


He,  whom  I  speak  to,  smiles  into  my  face, 
Crying,  with  kisses,  that  life  would  restore, 
'  All  that  you  say  has  a  feminine  grace  ; 
But  hasn't  Moore  said  something  like  it  before  ? ' 

From  the  piano  I  draw  forth  a  peal, 
Greeting  the  sound  with  a  smile  and  a  sigh, 
Singing  '  The  Last  Rose  of  Summer,'  I  feel 
That  summer  and  roses  can  never  die  ! 


HARRY.  53 


'Twas  a  beautiful  evening,  fresh  and  fair  ; 

Earth  sweeter  far  than  impossible  skies ; 

My  heart  beating  light  as  a  bird  in  air, 

When  Harry  brought  home  with  him  Jack  Devize. 

Did  no  presentiment  touch  me  that  day  ? 
Never  a  soupgon  of  evil  or  ill  ? 
No,  the  world  was  bright  with  Harry  away, 
And  when  Harry  came  back  it  was  brighter  still. 

The  man  stood  there,  and  his  shadow  was  laid 
Straight  at  my  feet  by  the  sunset  decrees ; 
J  mark'd  it  well,  and  I  was  not  afraid  ; 
And  when  Harry  nam'd  him  I  smil'd  with  ease. 


54  HARRY. 

The  roses  poured  out  their  exquisite  scent, 
Birds  gave  us  the  sweetest  music  they  had, 
And  the  little  grasses  daintily  bent 
In  the  tender  breeze,  as  if  they  were  glad. 


Are  there  not  angels  to  guard  us  and  keep  ? 
Are  spirits  not  round  us  hidden  from  sight  ? 
Oh  !  angels  and  spirits  were  all  asleep, 
Or  they  must  have  warn'd  me  that,  fatal  night. 


I  have  wak'd  with  the  thought  of  an  absent  friend 
(And  others  I  know  who  have  done  the  same), 
And  have  felt  'ere  I  see  the  daylight's  end, 
Her  letter  must  come — and  her  letter  came. 
I  have  run  indoors  with  the  happy  thought 
That  something  pleasant  was  going  to  be, 
And — coincidence  strange  ! — my  eye  has  caught 
The  sight  of  the  thing  it  desired  to  see. 


HARRY.  55 


I  have  felt  a  depression  all  the  day, 
A  dullness  for  which  I  could  not  account, 
And  a  flower  has  died — a  dog  run  away — 
Or  a  horse  gone  lame  that  1  wish'd  to  mount. 


,  And  if  from  the  regions  of  mysteries 
Soffiething  can  warn  us  of  trifles  like  these  ; 
How  could  it  be  I  met  Mr.  Devize 
With  a  smiling  face  and  a  heart  at  ease  ? 


No  dream  at  night,  when  by  wonderful  laws 

The  bodies  are  dead,  the  spirits  alive  ; 

No  little  heart — sinking  without  a  cause 

When  the  perfect  sunshine  made  nature  thrive  ; 

No  omen  or  signal,  little  or  great, 

Not  a  quicken'd  pulse  or  a  flutter'd  breath ; — 

So  Harry  and  I  rush'd  on  to  our  fate, 

And  the  unseen  world  was  passive  as  Death. 


56  HARRY. 

We  stroll' d  through  the  gardens  till  dinner  came, 
The  scented  breezes  were  faultlessly  sweet ; 
The  sun  went  suddenly  down  in  a  flame, 
While  the  birds  their  jubilant  hymns  repeat, 
We  chatted  at  dinner,  and  afterwards, 
And  the  moments  pleasantly  slid  away, 
But  when  Mr.  Devize  suggested  cards, 
I  laughingly  told  him  I  could  not  play. 


The  cards  are  produced  ;  the  men  begin  ; 
I  sit  by  Harry  and  watch  his  hand  ; 
I  am  very  eager  that  he  should  win, 
And  when  he  does  so,  I  feel  very  grand. 


Twas  all  very  well  for  once  you  see  ; 
Its  novelty  made  it  a  thing  to  praise  ; 
It  was  quite  a  joke  for  a  girl  like  me, 
Living  with  men  and  observing  their  ways. 


HARRY.  57 

t 

But  when  Jack  had  dined  again  and  again, 
And  with  others  enjoy'd  the  cards  and  fare, 
With  a  little  shiver  that  felt  like  pain, 
I  would  say  '  good  night '  and  leave  Harry  there. 


Cool  is  the  chamber  and  pleasant  the  light, 
.Tranquil  and  innocent,  tender  and  calm  ; 
Sweet  are  the  thoughts  that  approach  us  at  night, 
Sweet  as  the  breeze  with  its  perfumy  balm. 
And  if  I  am  reading  the  happy  Word, 
Or  saying  my  prayers  by  the  taper's  glow, 
I  wish  that  my  Harry  had  this  preferr'd 
To  the  painted  toys  and  the  men  below. 


'  I  wish  that  my  Harry  had  this  preferr'd' — ■ 
Hut  ought  I  to  wish  it,  if  he  does  not  ? 
Has  my  foolish  heart  from  its  duty  err'd, 
And  the  soft  compliance  of  love  forgot  ? 


58  HARRY. 

There  can  be  no  question  'twixt  wrong  and  right ; 
And  surely  we  all  can  be  brave  and  strong ; 
Yet  I  seem  a  little  perplexed  to-night, 
And  hardly  to  know  what  is  right  or  wrong. 

I'm  very  young  to  be  anyone's  wife, 
And  to  know  about  serious  things  like  these — 
Must  my  little  hand  touch  my  husband's  life 
With  a  thought  of  something  more  than  to  please  ? 

What  shall  I  do  with  this  ghost  of  a  care 
That  makes  my  silly  heart  flutter  and  sink  ? 
I  will  first  kneel  down  and  will  say  a  prayer, 
And  then  I'll  ask  Harry  what  I  should  think! 


HARR  V.  59 


•  Harry  stalk'd  into  my  room  in  a  rage — 
'  Hilton  and  Wilton  have  clear'd  me  out  quite  ; 
A  run  of  ill  luck  at  every  stage — 
Fifty  pounds  lost  since  you  left  us  to-night ! 

I'll  have  my  revenge  on  the  rogues  I  vow !' 
Marks  of  strange  anger  disfigure  his  face, 
A  dry  parch'd  lip  and  a  thundery  brow, 
And  a  sharp  bright  eye  that  has  lost  its  grace. 


So  a  lov'd  little  hand  comes  smoothing  down — 
Wandering  kisses  can  anger  eclipse ; 
The  beautiful  forehead  has  ceased  to  frown, 
And  sweet  is  the  kiss  I  find  on  my  lips. 


60  HARRY. 

'Ah,  dearest,'  I  whisper,  '  mourn  not  for  this, 
On  a  summer  day  with  a  heap  of  flowers  ; 
This  cannot  be  sorrow,  or  if  it  is, 
It  is  a  sorrow  that  cannot  be  ours.' 

All  the  strange  passion  had  vanish'd,  I  ween  ; 
The  Harry  I  knew  had  come  back  again  ; 
And  on  his  sweet  face  I  had  never  seen 
A  sweeter  smile  than  illumin'd  it  then. 

With  smiles  he  caress' d  me  :  '  You  little  thing — 
You  dear  little  thing,'  he  tenderly  said  ; 
'  We  have  banish' d  you  by  the  cards  we  bring  ; 
Let  us  banish  cards  and  have  you  instead.' 

I  clapp'd  my  hands,  and  my  heart  beat  light, 
As  I  softly  whisper'd,  '  Indeed  you  may, 
For  I'm  certain,  Harry,  it  is  not  right 
To  spend  so  much  money  and  time  at  play.' 

He  gave  me  an  odd  little  look  askance, 

And  mutter"  d  '  A  man  must  do  something  though ; ' 


HARRY.  61 

t 
I  answer'd  the  look  with  a  loving  glance, 

1  But  the  something  need  not  be  cards,  you  know  ; 

There  is  plenty  to  do  before  we  die, 

That  may  suit  a  gay  and  a  careless  mood ; 

We  are  so  happy,  Harry,  you  and  I, 

That  I  think  we  ought  to  be  ever  so  good. 

Playing  at  cards  for  money,  I'm  clear, 

*<4s  an  alien  thing  in  beautiful  lives' — 

He  grumbled,  '  The  fellows  will  think  me  queer  ; 

But  then  the  poor  fellows  have  not  got  wives.' 

We  talk'd  the  matter  delightfully  out ; 

Our  words  were  earnest  and  bright  and  free  ; 

We  twisted  it  round,  we  turn'd  it  about, 

And  we  both  agreed  that  it  should  not  be. 


'  You  are  my  angel,'  he  cried,  with  a  kiss  ; 
'  I  fear  lest  your  wings  are  spreading  to  fly.' 
And  his  angel  I  ought  to  be,  in  this, 
For  'tis  he  who  is  tempted,  and  not  I. 


62  HARRY. 

O,  women  have  no  temptations  at  all ; 
They  have  only  to  keep  their  white  lives  white ; 
But  men  are  so  tempted,  that  men  must  fall — 
O  wonderful  Harry  who  stands  upright ! 


Again  the  sweet  evenings  we  had  at  first : 
He  reads,  and  I  work ;  or  we  play  and  sing ; 
And  looks  and  words  that,  if  life  were  accurs'd, 
In  memory  only,  would  rapture  bring. 
Engagements  of  course  will  sometimes  arise  ; 
But  the  joy  is  still  in  the  coming  back  ; 
And  sometimes  he  dines  with  us  (Jack  Devize), 
And  sometimes  my  husband  dines  out  with  Jack 


Under  the  cliff  with  its  towering  crest, 
Where  the  wandering  sea  has  fill'd  the  space, 
A  sweet  little  village  has  made  its  nest, 
A  sort  of  miniature  watering  place. 


HARRY.  61 

t 
Scarcely  a  mile  by  the  upper  cliff  way — 

Further  of  course  by  the  beach-shaded  road — 

Little  Bellhaven  contentedly  lay, 

Easily  reached  from  our  pleasant  abode. 

Therein  a  Church,  and  a  place  of  Dissent, 

A  shop  where  we  purchase  our  sugar  and  shoes, 

Therein  a  Library  ladies  frequent ; 

Therein  a  club  where  the  men  read  the  news  ; 

Also  a  chamber  where,  lit  from  above, 

Balls  white  and  crimson  disport  on  green  baize, 

That  capital  game  which  gentlemen  love, 

.Vhere  Harry  conquers  whenever  he  plays. 

Billiards  require  grace,  agility,  skill ; 

No  one  without  them  can  hope  to  excel ; 

But  Harry  never  did  anything  ill 

That  it  is  manly  and  right  to  do  well. 

In  my  pretty  turn-out  with  ponies  gray, 
At  a  rattling  pace  to  the  club  I  come, 
And  feel  like  a  queen  triumphantly  gay, 
As  I  drive  my  conquering  Hero  home. 


64  HARRY. 

I  like  him  to  play  ;  I  like  him  to  win  ; 
I  like  to  wait  by  the  Ocean  expanse, 
To  watch  its  wild  waves  come  careering  in, 
In  regular  order  unknown  to  chance. 


I  like  the  scent  of  the  weeds  that  they  bear, 
And  their  rolling  sound  on  the  pebbly  beach  ; 
I  like  the  touch  of  the  salt-flavour' d  air ; 
There  is  beauty,  pleasure,  and  health  in  each. 


A  little  hotel  in  Bellhaven  stands, 
Where  dinners  are  serv'd  remarkably  well, 
And  sometimes  Harry  slips  out  of  my  hands 
And  dines  with  Jack  at  this  little  hotel. 
I'm  not  very  fond  of  the  place,  I  own  ; 
Ought  I  to  mind  it,  if  Harry's  amused  ? 
But  I  feel  so  lonely  when  I'm  alone, 
And  sometimes  T  feel  a  little  ill-used, 


HARRY.  65 

t 
'Tis  seldom  my  husband  deserts  me  thus, 

He  is  always  at  home  ere  the  clock  strikes  ten  ; 

So  I  won't  be  foolish  and  make  a  fuss, 

But  try  to  remember  that  men  are  men. 


66  HARR  Y. 


Sitting  and  waiting  for  Harry  alone, 
Watching  the  minutes,  and  wanting  him  back- 
Why  are  you  absent,  my  Harry,  my  own  ? 
Am  not  I  nicer  than  billiards  and  Jack  ? 


Traitress  to  ask  such  a  question  !  for  shame  ! 
Thou  art,  thou  knowest,  beginning  and  end  ! 
His  whole  life  is  thine — he  is  not  to  blame  ! 
May  not  thy  husband  go  out  with  a  friend  ? 


Thou  art  the  false  one,  and  he  is  the  true — 
Fretful  and  idle,  unworthy  thy  king  ! 
Hast  thou  not  anything  useful  to  do, 
Thou  good-for-nothing  and  cross  little  thing  ? 


HARR  V.  67 


Scolding  myself,  I  spring  up  from  my  chair, 
Calling  out  loud  that  the  time  is  not  long ; 
March  down  the  room  with  a  resolute  air, 
Seize  my  guitar,  and  burst  out  into  song ! 


Poor  little  girl,  sitting  singing  alone, 

i 

Pretty  guitar  round  a  slender  neck  hung, 
Smiles  on  thy  lips,  but  a  sad  little  moan, 
Deep  in  a  heart  that  is  foolish  and  young. 


SONG. 

To  one  whose  footstep?  fall 
Upon  a  mountain's  height, 
Earth  must  seem  very  small, 
And  heaven  infinite. 


68  HARRY. 

Then  why  do  misty  tears 
Conceal  each  lofty  crest, 
If  earth  so  far  appears, 
So  near  the  land  of  rest  ? 


Hush  !  for  the  mists  withdraw 
The  Hidden  shines  in  bliss  ; 
Who  in  a  valley  saw 
A  heaven-light  like  this  ? 

I  think  when  earth  can  speak 
(She  will  one  of  these  days), 
That  every  mountain-peak 
Will  give  a  shout  of  praise. 


I  did  not  care  for  the  song  that  I  sang ; 
I  was  not  thinking  of  mountains  at  all ; 
Tiresome  and  strange  in  mine  ears  the  words  rang- 
'  Heaven  is  infinite,  earth  is  so  small ' — 


HARRY.  69 

r 

Rang  in  that  eerie  monotonous  way 
Words  sometimes  will,  when  we  don't  will  one  bit. 
Which  proves  they're  alive — It  is  hard  in  the  day, 
But  in  the  night  who  can  battle  with  it  ? 
And  a  little  sob  rose  up  in  my  throat — 
'  Harry,  Harry,  Harry,'  thrill' d  through  the  sob  ; 
I  touch'd  the  guitar,  and  its  answering  note 
*  Came  unexpected,  and  made  my  heart  throb. 


Song. 

It  was  once  upon  a  time, 
Ere  the  roses  bud  and  blow, 
Underneath  the  scented  lime, 
Long  ago,  ah,  long  ago  ! 
Is  it  1  that  was  so  fair, 
When  the  sun  is  slanting  low, 
With  a  lily  in  my  hair, 
Ah,  so  very  long  ago  ? 


7o  HARRY. 


Was  my  heart  as  light  as  this 
Was  the  lily  white  as  snow  ? 
What  a  happy  hour  it  is, 
Long  ago,  ah,  long  ago  ? 
Then  the  lily  bloom' d  to  save, 
Ere  a  tear  had  learn'd  to  flow 
Now  it  lies  upon  a  grave, 
Ah,  so  very  long  ago  ! 


HARRY.  71 


■ 


While  I  sat  singing,  steps  came  on  the  path, 
'■*  Outside  the  window — what  marvel  is  this  ? 
Steady  and  solemn,  they  make  my  heart  wrath, 
Steps  come  towards  me,  and  they  are  not  his  ! 
Steps  in  the  night  time  pass  up  to  my  door  ; 
Then  comes  a  knocking  might  waken  the  dead  : 
Instead  of  one  Harry  there  must  be  four, 
Only  not  one  has  his  light  springy  tread. 


My  old  nurse's  son  to  sea  ran  away — 

At  a  '  Norwester,'  or  gale  from  the  South, 

I've  heard  the  poor  woman  tremblingly  say 

The  sound  'brought  her  heart  up  into  her  mouth  V 


72  HARRY. 

I,  little  prattler,  crouched  down  at  her  feet, 
Would  stop  aghast  in  my  innocent  play, 
Wondering,  will  she  be  able  to  eat, 
Supposing  her  heart  in  her  mouth  shall  stay  ? 

Strange  are  our  minds  and  their  workings,  I'm  sure 
Studying  them  might  drive  Solomon  wild  : 
At  the  loud  knocking,  I  ran  to  the  door 
With  a  sudden  thought  of  that  nurse  and  child. 

I  saw  her  rocking  herself  in  her  chair, 
While  the  mad  wind  blew  'neath  the  stormy  sky ; 
I  saw  the  little  child  watching  her  there, 
And  knew,  with  a  pang,  that  the  child  was  I. 

(Strange  are  the  pangs,  that,  when  life  is  most  fair, 
With,  not  a  regret  to  shadow  the  scene, 
Seize  on  the  heart  with  a  sudden  despair, 
From  a  passing  mem'ry  of  what  has  been.) 


HARRY.  73 

And  while  to  the  door  I  ran  with  a  start, 
Frighten' d  to  death  at  the  knocking  without, 
I  was  thinking  of  my  old  nurse's  heart, 
And  not  of  what  all  the  noise  was  about ! 


74  HARRY. 


Four  men  without  peering  sharply  within  ; 
One  girl  within  looking  out  at  the  men  ; 
Silence  at  first — you  might  have  heard  a  pin 
Drop  on  the  doorsteps — silence — and  then, 

'  What  do  you  want  ? '  cried  the  girl.     She  spoke  loud, 
In  a  voice  that  sounded  unlike  her  own. 
'We  want  Mr.  Vane,'  said  a  man,  who  bowed, 
And   uttered   the   words  in    a  gentle  tone. 

They  were   very  well   dressed — they  were  not  poor — 
They  had  shining  hats   and   cloaks  wrapp'd  about, 
These  men   who  stood  at   the  happy  hall-door, 
Where  Harry  and   I   run   in  and  run  out. 


HARRY  75 

t 
(You  want  him  ?  /  want  him,  I  might  have  said  ; 

But  only  to  say  so  seem'd  like  a  sin)  : 

'  He  is  not  within  ; '  and  I  shook  my  head, 

And  while  I  yet  spoke  the  men  were  within. 

They  did  not  appear  to  wish  to  intrude  ; 
They  did  not  attempt  to  frighten  me  now  ; 
They  did  not  push  by  me ;  they  were  not  rude  ; — 
But  somehow  they  enter' d — I  know  not  how. 

1  It's  no  use  trying  to  'ide  'im,  my  dear,' 
Said  one,  in  a  really  fatherly  way  ; 
'  In  course  we  knows  that  the  gen'leman's  'ere  ; 
And  till  he  turns  up  we  shall  'ave  to  stay.' 


1  The  gentleman's  here  ?  but  no  one  has  come ; 
And  no  one  can  come — it  is  much  too  late. 
Mr.- Vane  is  out — he  will  soon  be  home  ; 
But  I  really  must  ask  you  not  to  wait.' 


76  HARRY. 

The  man  laid  a  finger  against  his  nose  ; 
With  a  horrible  slyness  look'd  at  me  : 
'  We  understands  all  that  'ere,  I  suppose  ; 
But  you'd  better  come  to  terms,'  said  he. 

I  stared  at  the  man  with  my  vacant  eyes, 
That  dreamily  question'd  him  how  he  dared  ? 
And  suddenly  saw,  with  extreme  surprise, 
It  was  a  policeman  at  whom  I  stared. 


HARRY.  77 


•  ■- 


The  five  of  us  stood  in  the  pleasant  hall  ; 
ASid  four  were  policemen,  and  one  was  I ; 
And  Harry  had  never  come  home  at  all  ; 
And  the  clock  struck  one  with  a  gasping  sigh. 


My  heart  grew  cold,  and  my  courage  ran  down  ; 
I  pinch' d  my  finger — I  tried  not  to  scream — 
1  felt  like  a  creature  about  to  drown, 
And  I  cried  aloud,  '  It  must  be  a  dream  ! ' 
I  angrily  spoke, — and  I  spoke  out  loud  ; 
I  knew  'twas  a  dream  and  nothing  in  it ; 
I  spurn'd  the  dream  with  a  gesture  proud, 
And  ordered  myself  to  wake  that  minute. 


78  HARRY. 

Of  course,  I  just  fell  asleep  where  I  sat, 
And  this  is  a  dream — yes,  I  know  it  is — 
But  O  it  is  stranger  than  dreaming,  that 
Harry  has  not  wakened  me  with  a  kiss  ! 


I  looked  at  the  men,  who  are  searching  round, 
And  taking  a  note  of  all  they  can  find  ; 
Examining  ceiling  and  walls  and  ground, — 
— I  am  surely  going  out  of  my  mind  ! 

I  said  to  myself  in  a  coaxing  way — 

'  I  am  wide  awake,  and  he  has  come  back  ; 

Harry  is  acting  a  sort  of  a  play  : 

He  has  dress'd  himself  up,  and  so  has  Jack.' 


A  glance  or  a  signal  dispers'd  the  men  : 
Two  went  upstairs,  and  another  below  ; 
The  leader  sat  down  in  the  hall  ;  and  then — 
What  am  /to  do  ?     Where  am  / to  go  ? 


HARR  Y.  79 

t 
I  rush'd  to  the  door,  and  I  flung  it  wide — 

A  frighten' d  creature  can  anything  dare — 

And  I  saw  the  darkness  that  lay  outside, 

And  I  heard  the  silence — and  nothing  was  there. 


'  Harry  !  Harry  !   Harry  !  '    was  all  my  cry, 
As  I  stood  alone  at  the  open  door  ; 
And  the  night  heard  me — and  so  did  the  sky, 
And  the  wind  and  the  earth — and  nothing  more. 

I  turn'd  from  the  door  with  a  sad  surprise  : 
I  could  call  for  my  love  and  call  in  vain ; 
And  I  met  that  horrid  policeman's  eyes, 
Keenly  and  quietly  watching  my  pain. 

He  suddenly  called  for  his  men  to  come ; 
So  they  made  their  appearance  one  by  one ; 
And  he  said,  'The  gen'leman's  not  been  'ome, 
And  she  'asn't  a  notion  what  he's  done. 


80  HARRY. 

And  he  tuon't  come  now,  you  may  swear  to  that ; 
I  rayther  think  he'll  look  arter  a  ship  : 
I  rayther  suspect  we've  been  rayther  flat,    * 
And  the  gen'leman's  given  us  the  slip !  ' 


With  a  regular  march  they  trod  the  ground, 
Suddenly  left  me  alone  in  the  hall ; 
In  the  dreadful  silence  that  settled  round, 
Again  I  knew  I  was  dreaming  it  all  ? 


HARRY.  8 1 


A  voice  that  can  banish  my  sleep  I  know  , 
I  know  a  voice  that  could  wake  me  if  dead  ; 
\  loud  cheery  voice,  but  it  might  speak  low, 
And  {  May,  little  May,'  it  whispering  said. 


I  stand  like  a  statue  of  silence.     Hush ! 
I  listen  not  with  my  ears,  but  my  soul  ; 
And  I  feel  the  sudden  accustom'd  blush, 
As  again  the  whisper  reaches  its  goal. 


I  open  the  window.     'Mid  blossom  and  bough 
Of  clustering  laurel  and  Daphne  white, 
I  am  showering  kisses  on  Harry's  brow, 
And  dropping  the  first  tears  I've  shed  to-night. 


82  HARRY 

His  face  is  as  white  as  the  Daphne-bud  ; 

He  is  hiding  down  on  the  hidden  sward  ; 

He  is  wan  and  haggard,  and  splashed  with  mud  ; 

He  is  crouching  frighten'd — my  king  and  lord  ! 


He  whisper' d,  and  fill'd  my  heart  with  dismay, — 
Scared  by  the  sounds  that  used  once  to  rejoice  ! — 

0  Harry,  my  Harry,  speak  loudly,  I  pray, 
And  not  in  that  shocking  whispering  voice. 

He  whisper'd,  '  I've  got  in  a  horrid  scrape ; 
Fetch  me  some  money,  and  bid  me  good-bye  ; 

1  must  run  away,  and  make  my  escape,' — 
'  I  shall  run  with  you,  my  darling,'  said  I. 

'  You  cannot,'  he  murmur'd  ; — a  speechless  love 
Shone  out  of  his  eyes  ;  he  return'd  my  kiss — 
'  I  never  intended — Great  Father  above, 
You  know  that  I  never  intended  this. 


HARRY.  83 

t 

Fetch  me  some  money — the  desk  and  the  key — 

You  know  them — be  quick  !  or  dearly  you'll  rue — 

My  life's  in  your  hands  ! — have  mercy  on  me— 

Fetch  me  some  money-^It's  all  you  can  do.' 


A  horrible  haste  in  manner  and  voice, 
"*A  desperate  hungry  imploring  haste  ; 
I  rush'd  up  the  stairs — I  had  not  a  choice, 
And  I  snatch' d  the  notes  from  where  they  were  pRr'd. 
All  that  I  had — to  the  window  I  rush'd — 
With  kisses  and  tears  in  his  hands  I  laid  ; 
He  return'd  the- kisses,  with  lips  that  crush' d 

* 

Their  vehement  kisses  on  lips  dismay'd. 


He  was  almost  gone  ;  but  I  held  him  tight, 
And  cried  in  my  anguish,   'You  have  forgot — 
When  shall  I  follow  you,  darling?  to-night?' 
He  shook  his  head,  and  he  answer'd  me  not  ! 


84  HARR  Y. 

He  threw  off  my  hands  in  a  savage  way  ; 
He  cried,   '  I  adore  you,'  in  fondest  tone  ; 
'  You  shall  follow  me,  sweet — I  dare  not  stay- 
I'll  write  to  you,  darling  ; '  and  he  is  gone  1 


HARR  V.  SS 


PART   III. 

O  the  weary,   dark,   impossible  days, 

That  have  dragg'd  their  lingering  length   since  then  ! 

O  the  cruel  sunshine's   merciless  blaze ! 

0  the-  unnatural   faces  of  men  ! 

1  was  told  it  all — it  was  all  explain'd  ; 
And   they   all   declar'd  that    I    understood  ; 
But  only   one  knowledge   on   earth  remain'd, 
I  knew  that  Harry  was  noble  and  good. 

They   had  dined  together — together   play'd, 
Together   quarrell'd — who  cares   about   what  ? 
And  somebody,   speaking  about   them,    said, 
•  They   were   out   and  out  a  thorough   bail   lot  !  ' 


86  HARRY. 

'They  left  the  village,  they  rush'd  to  the  cliff, 
A  dissolute  crew  that  good  Christians  condemn  '- 
This  is  the  way  they  keep  talking,  as  if 
I  did  not  know  Harry  was  one  of  them  ! 
'  Shouting  and  swearing,  and  heated  and  flush' d, 
AH  talking  together,  and  running  pell  mell, 
Out  to  the  cliff  from  the  village  they  rush'd, 
And  two  men  were  fighting,  and  one  man  fell.' 
And  the  man  who  fell  over  the  dreadful  edge, 
For  ever  lost,  and  for  ever  must  be  ; 
There  was  never  a  sandbank,  rock,  or  ledge, 
There  was  ?iothing  but  the  pitiless  sea  ! 

I  hear  it  said,  without  doubt  or  surmise, 
Over  and  over  and  over  again, 
The  man  who  was  murder1  d  was  Jack  Devize, 
And  the  man  who  murder'd  him,  Harry  Vane ! 


HARRY.  87 


1  dream  I  am  standing  on  purple  heights, 
Alone  and  alone  for  ever  and  aye ; 
"^he  sun  is  shining  with  pitiless  lights; 
I  pray  that  darkness  may  cover  the  sky. 


I  dream  I  am  lying  buried  in  sand, 
Alone  and  alone  for  ever  and  aye ; 
Parch' d  and  dry  is  the  terrible  land  ; 
I  pray  but  for  water  before  I  die. 


I  dream  I  am  tossing  on  ocean  waves, 
Alone  and  alone  for  ever  and  aye  ; 
I  shudder  to  think  of  the  open  graves ; 
Under  daisy  Mossoms  I  pray  to  lie. 


83  HARRY. 

0  daisy  buds  I  am  dreaming  of  you, 
Alone  and  alone  forever  and  aye  ; 

From  a  dream  of  daisies  scatter' d  with  dew 

1  wake  with  a  start  and  a  piercing  cry. 


Let  me  but  dream  of  affliction  and  shame, 
Of  saints  that  punish  and  sinners  that  cower, 
Of  troubles  by  sickness  and  sword  and  flame, 
And  not  of  an  innocent  daisy  flower  ! 

I  am  haunted  by  words — by  seven  words — ■ 
Seven  words  echoing  everywhere  ; 
They  are  borne  on  breezes,  and  sung  by  birds, 
They  are  written  on  earth  and  sea  and  air. 

I  think  there  is  nothing  else  is  my  own ; 
I  think  there  is  nothing  else  is  alive ; 
Seven  words  and  I  are  always  alone  ; 
The  world  about  me  may  hunger  and  strive. 


-— s 


HARRY.  89 


I  have  heard  that  mystic  meaning  is  hid, 
I  have  heard  that  wonderful  things  are  made, 
Qf  the  number  seven — may  God  forbid — 
For  I  cannot  tell,  and  I  feel  afraid. 


The  sweetest  poem  that  ever  was  writ — 
•^  Do  you  not  know  it  ? — is  '  W^  are  seven  ; ' 
For  the  dear  little  girl  who  talks  in  it, 
Will  not  give  up  her  brothers  in  Heaven. 


What  the  stupid  sense  of  the  grown-up  man 
Urges,  she  cannot  perceive  ;  but  prefers 
The  simple  faith  of  her  own  sweet  plan, 
And  the  brothers  in  Heaven  still  are  hers. 


The  very  last  day  that  Harry  was  here 
I  read  him  those  verses,  and  Harry  smil'd  ; 
And  we  held  some  converse,  divinely  dear, 
Which  was  all  about  that  dear  little  child. 


9o  HARRY. 

Is  it  for  this  that  I  think  of  it  now  ? 
Is  it  for  this  he  let  seven  words  fall  ? 
O  pulses  are  beating  behind  my  brow, 
And  I  think  my  heart  is  not  beating  at  all ! 

« 

And  my  brain,  it  keeps  whirling  round  and  round, 
Like  a  sing-song  wheel  through  a  ship  at  night  ; 
And  the  seven  words  that  constantly  sound 
Are  'you  shall  follow  me,  sweet,'  and  '  I'll  write.' 


HARRY.  91 


I  wonder  if  I  have  been  going  mad, 
In  the  strange  wild  world  I  am  living  in  ? 
1  think  that  I  have — I  hop'd  that  I  had — 
For  I  weary  with  wondering,  what  is  sin  ? 


There's  blood  on  your  hand — there's  blood  on  your  soul- 
CD  lily-white  hand — soul  noble  and  true  ! 
You  murder" d  him  where  the  blue  waters  roll, 
And  he  set  the  seal  of  his  death  on  you. 


I  have  sat  so  happily  by  your  side, 

I  have  lain  so  tranquilly  on  your  breast ; 

But  I  think  that  you  died,  and  I  think  that  I  died — 

And  death  is  th  -  end  of  all,  and  the  best. 


T-  HARRY. 

It  was  God  who  created  men  and  time ; 

And  a  better  than  you  he  He  could  not  need ; 

So  if  you  did  it,  it  was  not  a  crime, 

And  if 'twas  a  crime,  you  did  not  the  deed. 


I  am  fighting  with  life,  with  death  I  strive  ; 
Ready  for  neither :  both  crush  with  their  might  ; 
Only  those  seven  words  keep  me  alive — 
You  said  Jyou  shall  follow  me,'  and  'I'll  write.' 


HARK  Y.  93 


.  «. 


They  stealth  ly  talk  ;   I  hear  what  they  say — 
Sharply  she  .lears  who  each  syllable  dreads — 
•  Glancing  at  me  in  significant  way 
Touching  their  foreheads  and  shaking  their  heads. 


'  Mad  ?  ' — '  not  exactly — bewilder' d^-confus'd  ; 
Thoughts  turn'd  astray  by  griefs  terrible  force ; 
Not  even  by  love  is  murder  excus'd  ; 
She  cannot  believe  that  he  did  it,  of  course. 
She  thinks  him  a  hero,  and  so  loves  on  ; 
Reason  enthron'd  would  annihilate  this  ; 
Love  would  have  nothing  to  nestle  upon, 
Did  she  perceive  him  the  sinner  he  is.' 


94  HARRY. 


Words  striking  my  brain  like  sunshine  on  ice, 
Bursting  the  bulwarks  that  kept  the  flood  in  ; 
Is  love  only  madness?     Will  reason  sufcce 
To  crucify  love  at  the  presence  of  sin  ? 

Reason  comes  back  with  all  honours  she  had, 
Calmly  accepting  my  life  as  it  is  ; 
I  will  not  go  mad— I  dare  not  go  mad — 
I  must  prove  love  is  not  treason  like  this  ! 

Is  he  not  all  that  I  thought  him  ?     Be  still 

0  treacherous  heart — then  you  were  to  blame  : 

1  married  my  Harry  for  good  or  ill, 

And  through  good  and  ill  I  love  him  the  same. 

If  God  died  for  us,  and  lay  in  a  grave, 
Leaving  His  mansions  of  glory  for  this  ; 
It  must  have  been  from  a  longing  to  save 
Such  a  noble  sinner  as  Harry  is. 


HARR  Y.  95 

In  His  own  image  created  He  him, 
And  He  called  man  '  good  '  on  the  virgin  sod  ; 
And  when  He  beheld  His  image  grow  dim, 
He  died  to  redeem  it — the  gracious  God  ! 


Rebuking  myself  with  an  angry  pain — 
'••What  was  I  wishing  for  ?     What  would  I  have  ? 
A  paragon  fram'd  by  my  shallow  brain, 
And  not  the  sinner  God  died  to  save  ? 


cj6  HARRY. 


I  have  driven  madness  out  of  my  brain, 
Studying  life  with  intolerant  eyes  ; 
Praying  and  weeping  and  praying  again — 
Earth  is  good  for  nothing  but  prayers  and  sighs. 


We  all  are  made  up  of  follies  and  faults, 
That,  if  time  but  serv'd,  would  lead  us  to  crime  ; 
A.nd  for  every  time  my  darling  halts, 
I  am  sure  I  have  halted  fifty  times  ! 


I  am  not  blinded  or  prejudiced  here  ; 

I  have  sought  the  truth  and  found  what  I  sought  ; 

I  know  you  were  wrong,  my  Harry,  my  dear  ; 

You  should  not  have  play'd  and  quarrell'd  and  fought. 


HARRY. 

Had  ypu  been  here  on  that  evening — a  cry 
Comes  out  of  my  heart  as  one  grace  I  implore 
Let  me  not  think  of  our  evenings,  or  I 
Shall  suddenly  die,  and  see  him  no  more. 


97 


T  know  you  were  wrong,  my  darling  ;  I  know 
That  we  all  do  wrong,  and  must  all  repent ; 
But  this  horrible  depth  of  nameless  woe 
Was  nothing  on  earth  but  an  accident. 
With  your  tender  heart  and  your  gracious  way, 
And  your  temper  as  gay  as  cloudless  skies, 
You  would  sooner  have  died  that  fatal  day 
Than  taken  the  life  of  Jack  Devize. 


O  tender  heart,  art  thou  lonely  and  cold, 
With  no  one  to  comfort  or  take  thy  part  ? 
O  sweet  gay  words  in  the  days  that  are  old ! 
And  oh,  to  be  clasp'd  to  that  tender  heart ! 


98  .  HARRY. 

I  am  so  afraid  that  you  feel  remorse 
For  an  end  that  indeed  you  could  not  prevent ; 
And  I  am  not  there  to  put  gentle  force 
On  what  you  should  and  should  not  repent. 
I  am  so  afraid  that  you  grieve  too  much, 
With  a  sorrow  that  nothing  will  stop  or  stay  : 
O  Harry,  don't  let  your  sorrow  be  such  ; 
O  darling,  you  shall  be  happy  some  day  ! 


i  hey  want  to  have  you  ;  they  hunt  you  to  death 
They  cannot  believe  that  you  meant  the  deed  ! 
Have  they  no  sense  ?  no  perception  ?  no  faith  ? 
Are  they  helmless  boats,  without  God  or  Creed  ? 


HARRY.  99 


Waiting,  waiting,  waiting,  Harry,  for  you, 
While  the  dreadful  days  drag  wearily  by  ; 
•^  cannot  wait  longer — what  shall  I  do  ? 
For  till  I  have  kiss'd  you  I  cannot  die. 


Frighten'd  at  every  movement  or  sound — 
Every  thing  except  one  thing  forgot — 
Always  in  terror  that  you  have  been  found — 
Would  the  first  moment  be  rapture  or  not  ? 


Wandering  aimlessly  everywhere, 
Upstairs  and  downstairs,  from  room  into  room, 
Searching  for  nothing — for  nothing  is  there, 
Only  the  changeless  impregnable  gloom. 


loo  HARRY. 

Stifled  within,  the  cool  gardens  I  seek ; — 
Like  poor  human  souls  the  flowers  all  die  ; 
Even  the  birds  are  refusing  to  speak, 
Crush'd  by  the  weight  of  a  leaden-gray  sky. 

Is  this  the  whole  of  it  ?  is  this  the  end  ? 

Life  finish'd  off  by  a  heartless  Amen  ? 

When  will  you  write  to  me  ?  when  will  you  send  ? 

When  shall  I  follow  you,  Harry  ? — Ah  when  ? 

I  wander' d  far  from  my  hateful  abode  ; 
The  hour  was  becoming  a  little  late  ; 
Just  there  a  gate  open'd  into  a  road, 
And  a  boy  was  leaning  upon  the  gate. 

Faithful  old  Rover,  who  follow' d  me  out, 
Went  perfectly  frantic  beholding  this  boy, 
Sniff  d  at  his  coat,  leaping  wildly  about, 
And  danced  like  a  dog  that  dances  for  joy. 


HARRY.  101 

t 

He  was  a  stripling  both  slender  and  tall 

(My  ?dle  eyes  vacantly  take  the  view), 

His  coat  was  too  larsre,  or  he  was  too  small, 

His  nose  was  a  snub,  and  his  eyes  were  blue. 

Angry  I  felt  to  see  Rover  rejoice, 

But  he  suddenly  stopp'd,  began  to  quake, 

And  howl'd  in  a  most  deplorable  voice, 

*^As  if  his  dog-heart  was  ready  to  break. 

Then  the  boy,  stooping  down,  something  slipp'd  in 
(The  something  was  little  and  square  and  white) 
Between  the  steel  collar  and  hairy  skin, 
Saw  that  I  saw  it,  and  so  took  to  flight. 

Wagging  his  tail,  a  hurrah  in  each  beat, 
Expanding  his  chest  with  a  gesture  grand, 
Rover  ran  back  to  crouch  down  at  my  feet, 
Licking  my  eager  incredulous  hand. 


102  HARRY. 

It  was  in  my  hands — I  tore  it  apart, 

This  letter  that  Harry  had  writ  to  me  ; 

My  head  turned  giddy,  and  so  did  my  heart, 

And  turn'd  my  eyes  blind  that  I  could  not  see. 

O  wicked  blind  eyes,  will  you  not  be  clear  ? 
Have  I  not  told  you  'tis  written  by  him  ? 
'Tis  a  piece   of  Heaven  I  am  holding  here, 
And  my  horrible  earthly  eyes  are  dim  ! 

The  cruel  letters  run   out  and  run  in, 
Fluttering,  tottering,   stammering  by, 
Mixing  together  like  threads  that  you  spin, 
Flying  apart,  as  birds  recklessly  fly. 


Is  it  for  years  that   I  helplessly   stand, 
While  tremulous  lights  into   shadows  flit, 
With  a  piece  of  Heaven  held  in  my  hand, 
Which  is  mine — and  I   cannot   enter  it ! 


HARR  Y. 

f 
At  last — O  my  wonderful  dear  at  last ' 

Them  always  comest,  howe'er  it  is 

The  senseless  signs  into  symmetry  pass'd, 

For  a  few  short  seconds  it  must  be  bliss  ! 


103 


And  so  standing  there  in  the  twilight's  fall 
*«*(What  happen'd  is  nothing  but  what  must  be) 
I  read  the  first  words  that  ever  at  all 
My  Harry  (God  bless  him  !)  has  written  me. 


Harry's  Letter. 

'  O  Child,  when  my  words  your  sweet  youth  beguil'd, 

I  meant  to  make  you  the  happiest  child  ! 

I  meant  that  no  earthly  life  should  be  known 

As  bless'd  as  the  life  I  had  made  my  own  ; 

My  weakness  and  follies  I  had  forgot — 

But  you  were  happy  with  me,  were  you  not? 


104  HARRY. 

I  am  not  worthy  my  Love  should  come, 
Forsaking  for  my  sake  her  English  home  ; 
Exiled  from  all  that  is  happy  and  good, 
Caress'd  by  a  hand  that  is  stain'd  with  blood. 
Your  innocent  face  shall  never  be  kiss'd 
By  him  who  his  Heaven  and  Hope  has  miss'd  ! 
I  suffer  for  sin,  as  I  ought  to  do  ; 
But,  my  darling,  it  shall  not  fall  on  you. 


'  I  am  safely  hous'd  by  a  faithful  friend, 
And  the  letter  I  write  his  hands  will  send  ; 
I'm  at  Clarendon  Crescent.  Liverpool 
(I've  told  you,  Love,  of  the  dear  old  school) ; 
Clarence  will  help  me  all  ways  that  he  can 
{Though  a  good  tutor,  he  is  a  good  man), 
I  shall  sail  for  another  hemisphere, 
Leaving  behind  me  my  anguish  and  fear ; 
Leaving  behind  me  my  joy  and  my  grace, 
I  shall  soon  pass  over  limitless  space. 


HARRY.  105 


'  Could  I  but  have  seen  you  but  once  again  ! 
It  is  hard  to  suffer  and  not  complain  ! 
'^is  my  sin  against  you  I  most  repent 
(I  did  make  you  happy  ?  you  were  content  ?) 

'  O  fool,  who  possessing  all  man  may  win, 
Could  not  keep  his  fool-nature  free  from  sin  ! 
*^Love  must  have  changed  to  a  useless  regret ; 
You  cannot  forgive  me — can  you  forget  ?  ' 


Without  an  hour's  or  a  minute's  delay 
All  is  arranged,  I  decide  what  to  do  ; 
My  brain  is  at  work,  my  heart  is  at  play, 
I  am  running,  flying,  Many,  to  you. 

O  stricken  woman,  whose  life  is  all  black, 
Wearily  walking  in  sorrow  and  shame  ! 
O  gay  little  girl  who  comes  running  back, 
You  are  not,  I'm  certain,  one  and  the  same  ! 


io6  HARRY. 

The  sky  is  hid  in  its  lead-coloured  pall, 
Not  a  bird  utters  the  least  little  tone  ; 
The  blossoms  about  me  wither  and  fall  ; 
The  change  must  be  in  me — and  me  alone  ! 


I  tell  them  I  cannot  endure  it  more  ; 

That  the  empty  house  is  killing  my  heart ; 

They  have  done  their  best  to  assist  before, 

And  they  eagerly  help  me  to  depart. 

The  world  is  very  good-natured,  I  find 

(Why  do  worldlings  often  their  home  condemn  ?) 

And  servants  are  always  extremely  kind, 

If  mistresses  only  are  kind  to  them. 

'  I  go  to  London  to  meet  a  friend ' — 

They  are  all  agreed  I  want  change  and  rest — ■ 

I  give  a  direction  where  they  may  send, 

I  take  my  own  maid,  and  I  leave  the  rest. 


HARRY.  107 


I  know  that  detectives  are  on  my  track, 
Watching  the  house — watching  all  that  I  do- 
le have  to  pretend  I  am  coming  back, 
And  enact  this  drama,  Harry,  for  you. 


I  am  sorry  to  say  goodbye  to  all — 
.     For  all  had  been  kind  in  days  that  are  dead  ; 
But  the  only  tear  that  my  eyes  let  fall 
Was  dropp'd  upon  Rover's  shaggy  old  head. 


My  London  friend  I  can  trust ;  she  is  one 
That  I  knew  at  school,  and  have  lov'd  for  years- 
O  happy  school-days  that  are  past  and  done  ! 
O  beautiful  friendship,  unsoiled  by  tears  I 


Restlessly,  wearily  eager  am  I — 
(Do  girls  feel  thus  when  about  to  elope  ?) — 
I  leave  Harry's  home  'neath  a  star-lit  sky, 
And  my  heart  beats  high  with  a  single  hope.'- 


io8  HARRY. 


And  my  heart  beats  high  with  a  single  hope, 
Which  has  come  on  a  sudden  when  unsought ; 
In  all  the  wide  world  there  is  only  scope 
For  a  single  hope  and  a  single  thought. 
O  why  should  a  wide  world  have  more  than  this  ? 
When  after  all  has  been  done  and  been  said, 
'Tis  a  single  grief  or  a  single  bliss 
That  rekindles  a  life  or  strikes  it  dead. 


HARRY. 


log 


Clasp' d  in  her  arms,  with  her  tears  on  my  check, 
,  Her  kind  husband  warmly  grasping  my  hand, 
In  statue-like  calm,  I  move  not  nor  speak — 
A  silent  machine  for  one  purpose  plann'd. 


'  O  white  little  face,'  she  tremblingly  cries, 
'  It  cannot  be  yours,  that  white  little  face  ; 
O  when  did  you  get  those  far-seeking  eyes  ? 
And  the  stillness  in  lieu  of  girlish  grace  ?  ' 


And  looking  at  me  she  drew  back  alarm'd, 
She  felt  that  something  divided  us  ; 
She,  who  lived  the  life  of  the  happy  charm' d, 
And  I,  who  am  battling  with  fortune  thus. 


no  HARRY. 

Out  spake  her  husband — '  I  know  what  to  do  ; 
Put  her  to  bed — she  will  wake  by-and-by — 
Then  let  her  have,  in  the  boudoir  with  you, 
A  hot  cup  of  tea  and  thorough  good  cry.' 


As  a  judge  in  court  he  summ'd  up  the  whole  ; 
I  laugh' d  my  first  laugh  since  the  grief  began  ; 
For  I  thought,  this  is  how  a  woman's  soul 
Is  held  at  the  hands  of  a  worthy  man  ! 

I  answer'd  him  with  a  sort  of  a  scorn — 
The  least  little  bend  from  a  haughty  height — 
4 1  left  home  last  evening,  was  here  at  morn, 
And  shall  be  in  Liverpool  long  ere  night.' 

They  were  startled,  eager,  anxious  and  kind 
(They  had  read  the  papers  and  learn'd  the  fact), 
But  they  question'd  not,  from  the  touch  refin' A 
Of  a  sweet  good-nature  that  men  call  tact^ 


HARRY.  in 

t 

I  told  where  he  was — I  trusted  them  both, 
Sounding  the  depths  of  their  souls  in  their  eyes ; 
Hie  man  was  too  honest  to  need  an  oath, 
And  the  woman  too  tender  not  to  be  wise. 


They  were  ready  to  help  with  hand  and  heart 
**(And  a  kindness  no  balancing  prudence  bounds), 
Fed  me  and  petted  me,  let  me  depart, 
And  lent  me  at  parting  five  hundred  pounds. 
We  started  as  if  for  an  airing  gay, 
No  coachman  or  footman,  not  even  Jane  ; 
The  husband  drove  us  the  whole  of  the  way, 
And  saw  me  safe  in  the  Liverpool  train. 
The  tears  of  my  friend  lie  wet  on  my  cheek, 
I  pointed  onward,  and  wistfully  smil'd; 
Her  husband  smiled  too,  though  he  did  not  speak, 
And  kiss'd  me  as  if  I  had  been  his  child. 


ii2  HARRY. 


Never  a  slumber  the  whole  of  the  night, 
Never  a  slumber  with  day  in  the  skies  ; 
Nature  assumes  preternatural  light, 
Set  in  sharp  outlines  that  dazzle  my  eyes. 


Blackness  and  whiteness — no  colour  there  is — 
Terrible  contrast  of  lustre  and  shade — ■ 
Yet  no  surprise  thrills  my  spirit  at  this 
Wonderful  world  into  silhouettes  made. 


Countries  and  cities  rush  hastily  by, 
Hedgerows  and  forests  excitedly  fly  ; 
Rapidly  earth  pirouettes  through  the  sky ; 
All  things  are  madly  in  motion,  but  I — 


HARRY. 

r 

If  they  would  stop  for  one  minute,  but  one, 
Thought  might  return  from  spheres  distant  and  dim  ; 
Thought  has  forsaken  me  ;  I  am  alone, 
With  but  one  consciousness — nothing  but  him. 


113 


ii4 


HARRY. 


We  have  reach'd  the  station — the  train  is  left  : 
What  I  am  doing  I  know  must  be  done  ; 
I  am  a  creature  whose  body's  bereft 
Of  all  sensations  and  feelings  save  one. 


I  don't  think  I  see  the  streets  and  the  lights, 
Or  hear  the  answers  my  questions  brought ; 
Yet  something  guides  me,  and  guides  me  aright- 
Js  mesmerism  the  nonsense  I  thought  ? 
If  the  brain,  engross'd  by  a  single  fact, 
Fails  the  whole  army  of  nerves  to  sustain, 
The  outposts  perhaps,  refusing  to  act, 
Transmit  neither  sight  nor  sound  to  the  brain. 


HARRY.  115 

t 

But  are  souls  dependent  on  eye  and  ear? 
Does  nothing  come  straight  to  them  from  above  ? 
Are  there  no  spirit-instincts,  to  see  and  hear, 
And  no  miraculous  power  of  Love  ? 


I  have  found  the  Crescent,  and  number  Two — 
I  have  rung  the  bell — the  servant  has  come — 
I  have  opened  my  lips,  and  words  run  through, 
And  they  ask  '  Is  Mr.  Clarence  at  home  ?  ' 
A  man  has  appear'd  from  some  inner  place 
(I  heard  him  describ'd  'ere  this  trance  began) — ■ 
Is  he  moving  away  into  empty  space  ? 
I  must  come  to  life  and  must  stop  this  man 


A  terrible  nightmare  on  throat  and  brain — » 
A  body  and  soul  in  bewildered  strife — 
Shall  I  never  be  quite  alive  again  ? — 
I'll  make  a  desperate  struggle  for  life  ! 


n6  HARRY. 

I  catch  at  his  arm  as  he  passes  by, 

As  a  drowning  creature  clutches  at  life ; 

And  I  whisper  low  as  a  lullaby — 

'  Give  him  me  instantly — I  am  his  wife  ! ' 


He  stares  in  my  face  with  nothing  to  say — 

A  tremor  comes  over  his  brow  and  lip — 

He  flings  up  his  arms  in  a  helpless  way, 

And  stammers — '  Alas  !  he's  on  board  the  ship  !' 


HARRY.  i  j  >* 


.  «. 


I  am  not  fainting — I  am  not  appall' d — 
I  am  not  beat  down — I  feel  no  despair : 
It  seems  all  expected  and  all  forestall' d, 
As  I  utter  my  three  words,  '  When  and  where  ?  ' 


'  Two  hours  ago  at  the  Northern  quay  '— 
He  offers  me  food,  and  to  rest  and  sit — 
I  have  left  the  house — I  am  on  my  way— 
I  have  hail'd  a  cab  and  jump'd  into  it. 


0  faster  !  O  faster !   O  yet  more  fast  ! 
There's  nothing  on  earth  but  driving  like  this 

1  know  it  will  all  come  right  at  the  last, 
But  I  am  not  certain  what  the  right  is. 


nS  HARRY. 

There  is  a  river  and  there  is  a  boat 

(I  read  it  all  in  a  far-away  tale) — 

O  faster  !  O  faster  !  you  do  but  float  ; 

Pull  away  with  your  oars,  shake  out  your  sail  \ 

A  woman,  I  know,  must  sail  in  a  skiff, 
And  reach  a  ship  ere  it  reaches  the  sea ; 
But  it  is  a  wonderful  matter  if 
The  woman  who  sits  here  is  really  me  ! 


0  faster  !  O  faster  !  you  scarcely  stir — 

The  ship  has  grown  large  that  was  but  a  speck ' 
We  have  reached  the  ship — we  have  boarded  her- 
And  I  see  who  is  standing  on  her  deck  I 

1  see  who  stands  there,  I  hear  and  see 
His  incredulous  joy  and  startled  cry, 
His  beautiful  wonder  at  sight  of  me  ; 

I  feel  his  embraces,  and  then — I  die  ! 


HARRY.  119 


PART  IV. 

I  know  not  how  long  I  was  lying  dead ; 
"*   I  know  not  what  happen' d  day  after  day  : 
But  I  know  whose  breast  supported  my  head ; 
I  know  in  whose  arms  I  passively  lay. 

I  know  whose  voice  I  was  hearing  again  ; 
With  no  vivid  emotion  through  me  sent, 
But  only  with  that  sweet  absence  of  pain 
The  young  call  repose,  and  the  old,  content. 

I  know  of  the  presence  that  o'er  me  shed 
Through  all  that  I  suffer'd  a  perfect  ease  ; 
J  know  all  this  because  I  am  dead — 
I  suppose  the  dead  can  know  what  they  please  ! 


120  HARRY. 

Can  I  be  dead  ?     It  is  foolish  to  die, 
Earth  shining  brighter  than  any  bright  star. 
Death,  do  you  know  it  is  Harry  and  I  ? 
Heaven  is  here — must  I  seek  it  afar  ? 

Death,  seize  thy  prey  from  the  world-weary  track  j 
Let  not  the  happy  by  thee  be  remov'd  ; 
Slowly  and  softly  and  sweetly  come  back, 
Life  that  she  loves  to  a  girl  that  is  lov'd  ! 


Cut  through  the  waves,  happy  ship  'neath  my  feet , 
Scatter  thy  prow  with  beneficent  spray  ! 
Never  an  admiral  leading  a  fleet; 
Felt  as  triumphant  as  I  do  to-day  ! 

Ocean  around  us,  and  Heaven  above  ; 
Hands  clasp'd  together  in  innocent  bliss  ; 
Heart  meeting  heart  with  the  fulness  of  love — 
Can  there  be  anything  sweeter  than  this  ? 


HARRY.  121 


t 
Seeking  a  home  on  a  far-distant  shore, 

Mid  gigantic  forests  and  splendid  rlow'rs, 

Where  sorrow  cannot  bewilder  us  more, 

0 

Or  fear  reach  a  solitude  perfect  as  ours. 


Crossing  blue  ocean  'neath  heavens  as  blue, 
Seeking  new  worlds  with  new  winters  and  springs  ; 
Even  the  old  stars  are  changing  to  new, 
Lovely  confusion  of  wonderful  things ! 


Almost  forgetting  to  feel  a  regret — 
Almost  forgotten  the  world  whence  we  came — 
Only  our  hearts,  Harry,  cannot  forget; 
Only  our  love  will  be  ever  the  same  ! 

Talking  together  through  nights  and  through  days  ; 
Talking  together  through  days  and  through  nights  ; 
Facing  futurity's  fathomless  haze  ; 
Piercing  its  shadows  with  delicate  lights. 


122  HARRY. 

Forward  our  glances  immutably  cast 
(Pillars  of  salt  will  not  garnish  our  way  !) 
Just  for  the  present  forgetting  the  past, 
Planning  the  future  in  all  that  we  say. 


Where  neither  sorrow  nor  sin  has  beguil'd, 
Deep  in  a  forest,  a  home  will  be  made  ; 
Nature  contrasting  with  hand  undefil'd 
Novel  creations  of  sunlight  and  shade. 


Softness  and  grandeur  enchantingly  blent, 
Deep  in  a  forest  two  lives  pass  away  ; 
Wrapp'd  in  each  other,  supremely  content, 
Lighted  by  love's  irrefrangible  ray. 


HARRY. 


• 


■■« 


123 


So  the  ship  flew  on  that  contained  us  two, 

With  ocean  around  and  heaven  above  ; 

i 

It  seem'd  there  was  nothing  for  us  to  do 

But  to  love  and  live,  and  to  live  and  love. 


So  the  ship  flew  on  to  the  sinless  shore, 
Where  a  younger  world  from  the  deep  sea  starts ; 
Where  sorrow  cannot  bewilder  us  more, 
Or  fear  lay  her  cold  hand  over  our  hearts. 


124  HARRY. 


It  is  just  as  lovely  as  what  we  plann'd, 
With  its  exquisite  air  of  bright  repose  ; 
And  'tis  Harry  himself  must  till  the  land, 
And  'tis  I  must  sweep  and  cook,  I  suppose ! 


Is  it  playing  at  life,  this  life  of  ours  ? 

Has  childhood  come  back  with  its  pleasant  plays  ? 

Mid  gigantic  trees  and.  delicious  flow'rs 

We  are  passing  our  happy  nights  and  days. 


But  the  little  cloud — O  the  little  cloud — 
So  little  at  first  it  might  almost  please — 
That  covers  us  up  like  a  dead  man's  shroud, 
Growing  bigger  and  bigger  by  degrees 


HARRY.  125 

r 

Alas  !  is  it  only  in  some  bright  past 
That  love  can  be  perfect  and  bliss  secure  ! 

0  days  of  delight  that  flew  by  too  fast, 
Leaving  the  present  too  empty  and  poor  ! 

1  had  sometimes  fancied  a  pang  like  this, 
from  a  passing  tone,  or  a  look  in  his  face ; 
But  the  meeting  was  such  unclouded  bliss, 
And  the  days  that  follow'd  it  full  of  grace. 

In  the  sweet  content  of  finding  a  home, 
There  was  not  leisure  for  joy  to  grow  dim  ; 
But  the  cloud  was  there,  and  ready  to  come, 
And  the  cloud  was  the  fear  of  change  in  him  1 


126  HARR  Y. 


Harry  is  changed — he  is  graver, — I  think 

Never  I'll  see  the  old  Harry  again  : 

There's  a  look  in  his  face  that  makes  my  heart  sink. 

For  it  is  a  look  of  a  hopeless  pain. 


Sometimes  I  hardly  can  keep  down  my  cries — 
I  could  wring  my  hands — I  could  tear  my  hair- 
When  an  expression  comes  into  his  eyes, 
Which  is  the  expression  of  a  despair. 


He  never  alludes  to  the  dreadful  past ; 
But  when  his  lips  tremble  and  brow  is  knit, 
I  cannot  bear  it,  and  cry  out  at  last, 
'  O  talk  of  it,  Harry— O  talk  of  it ! ' 


HARRY.  \2', 

r 

His  eyes  are  full  of  a  helpless  regret 
(And  I  almost  wish  I  was  lying  dead)  ; 
Will  he  not  talk  of  it  ?  not  even  yet  ? — 
He  speaks  in  a  whisper,  and  shakes  his  head. 

'  I  cannot — I  dare  not'      'You  can — you  dare— 
«You  must  do  it,  Harry — just  for  my  sake  ; 
For  this  burthen,  which  it  is  not  to  bear, 
Is  crushing  my  heart,  and  my  heart  will  break.' 

He  kisses  my  lips — he  presses  my  hand. — 
Looking  straight  in  my  face  without  surprise  ; 
But  it  seems  that  he  cannot  understand, 
And  very  wide  of  the  mark  he  replies — 


'  I  will  not  shadow  that  innocent  heart 
With  the  lightest  cloud  that  may  dim  its  light.' 
1  But  my  life  in  your  life  must  take  its  part, 
Or  I  am  lost  in  the  darkness  of  night. 


128  HARRY. 

I  married  you,  Harry,  for  good  or  ill, 
For  better  or  worse,  for  sickness  or  health. 

0  let   me  the  beautiful   vow  fulfil, 
Joyously,  utterly — never  by  stealth  ! 

1  am  not  your  wife  while  you  treat  me  thus, 
And  life  is  becoming  too  hard  to  bear ; 

Is  there  that  in  the  heart  of  one  of  us, 
That  the  heart  of  the  other  must  not  share? 


1 1  almost  died  when  you  left  me,  my  dear ; 
Yet  you  did  it  quite  for  my  good,  you  know  ; 
O  where  should  I  be  if  I  was  not  here? 
'Neath  a  little  grass  hillock  lying  low  ! 
You  would  be  living,  to  labour  and  strive, 
And  I  should  be  lying  quite  dead — quite  dead ! 
You  would  be  thinking  of  me  as  alive, 
While  daisies  were  growing  over  my  head. 


HARRY.  129 

And  now — for  my  good — will  you  crush  my  life 

With  a  burthen  it  cannot  bear,  I  know! 

O  Harry,  my  darling,  I  am  your  wife — 

(J  what  have  I  done  that  you  treat  me  so  ?  ' 


He  stared  in  my  eyes  with  a  sort  of  frown, 
That  more  than  a  smile  gave  promise  of  grace ; 
The  mask  that  he  wore  fell  suddenly  down, 
A  wonderful  change  came  over  his  face. 


He  sat  at  my  feet,  and  his  head  he  laid 
Low  down  on  my  lap,  and  he  did  not  move, 
But  he  murmur' d  softly,  '  I  am  afraid 
I  shall  make  a  fool  of  myself,  my  love.' 

And  then  he  suddenly  burst  into  tears 
(I  had  never  seen  tears  in  Harry's  eyes), 
And  he  cried,  'If  I  live  a  hundred  years, 
I  shall  see  the  wild  face  of  Jack  Devize  ! ' 


130  HARRY. 

Then  I  felt  the  doom  that  was  o'er  us  laid, 
And  our  lives  stood  before  me  pale  and  gray ; 
My  heart  turn'd  sick — I  was  feeling  afraid — 
As  I  kept  kissing  Harry's  tears  away. 


And  must  his  life  be  so  faint  and  so  dim  ? 
And  his  heart  be  rack'd  by  a  useless  pain  ? 
While  I'm  always  trying  to  comfort  him, 
And  always  trying  to  comfort  in  vain  ? 


Ah  no,  my  beloved,  it  shall  not  be  so, 
I  will  try  so  hard — I  will  pray  so  much  ; 
Comfort  will  come  to  you,  Harry,  I  know, 
And  grief  die  out  'neath  her  delicate  touch. 
We  must  both  be  brave  and  must  play  our  part  3 ; 
We  must  fight  the  battle  with  weapons  fit ; 
Time  will  take  sorrow  out  of  our  hearts, 
But  oh,  the  pity — the  pity  of  it  ! 


HARRY.  131 

t 

There  are  no  more  secrets  'twixt  you  and  me  ; 

Our  hearts  may  reveal  their  thoughts  as  they  pass  , 

There  is  a  ripple  the  less  on  the  sea, 

And  a  purer  light  flits  over  the  grass. 


If  shadows  are  dark,  and  lights  are  not  clear, 
It  is  only  the  common  lot  of  man  ; 
We  must  live  our  actual  lives,  my  dear, 
And  make  the  best  of  those  lives  that  we  can. 


I  used  to  be  certain  of  perfect  bliss, 
And  find  it  in  every  breath  I  drew  ; 
And  now  the  height  of  riiy  happiness  is 
To  lessen  the  sorrow  that  burthens  you  I 


Thank  God  that  we  met  when  our  lives  were  bright, 

And  earth  was  as  fair  as  heaven  above, 

And  stood  in  the  lovely  religious  light, 

And  vowed  the  sweet  vows  to  cherish  and  love. 


132  HARRY. 

O  Harry,  my  dear  !  if  we  had  not  met, 
What  would  you  do  with  your  desolate  life  ? 
O  merciful  God,  can  I  ever  forget 
Your  goodness  in  letting  me  be  his  wife  ? 


We  walk  'neath  the  weight  that  we  have  to  bear 
(I  suppose  all  people  walk  under  weights) ; 
They  say  that  a  road  of  trouble  and  care 
Is  the  straightest  road  to  the  Heaven-gates. 

I  hope  we  shall  find  the  gates  open  far, 
So  that  close  together  we  both  come  in  ; 
I  shrink  from  the  thoughts  of  the  gates  ajar, 
When  only  the  one  might  an  entrance  win. 

I  wonder  if  Heaven  is  brighter  yet, 
Than  the  home  that  lies  o'er  a  distant  main ; 
I  wonder  if  there  we  shall  quite  forget 
That  we  never  saw  that  dear  home  again  ! 


HARRY.  133 


r 

I  must  not  be  tired,  or  think  of  my  load  ; 

I  must  try  to  walk  with  a  step  more  free  ; 

I  have  to  help  Harry  along  the  road, 

0 
That  is  so  much  harder  for  him  than  me. 


Living  alone  in  the  depths  of  a  wood, 

Life  catches  meanings,  and  things  become  clear  ; 

But  Harry  is  growing  so  very  good, 

That  it  almost  gives  me  a  sort  of  fear. 


'  O  little  May-blossom  ! :  he  softly  cries, 
As  together  we  tread  the  well-worn  way, 
'  There  is  nothing  sweeter  beneath  the  skies, 
Than  a  little  shining  blossom  of  May  ! 


O  lie  on  my  heart,  as  you  ever  do, 
Till  my  heart  grows  lighter  under  your  touch  ; 
O  little  May-blossom  !   while  I  have  you 
No  shaft  of  misfortune  can  hurt  me  much  ! ' 


134  HARRY. 


He  has  work'd  all  day  on  the  virgin  sod  ; 
We  have  eaten  the  meal  that  my  hands  prepare  ; 
We  have  said  our  prayers  to  the  Father  God, 
And  Harry  is  placidly  sleeping  there. 


He  is  sleeping  there,  while  I  work  away — 
My  busy  needle  has  plenty  to  do  ; 
And  my  thoughts  turn  idly  to  yesterday, 
And  a  world  svhere  troubles  were  very  few  ; 


To  a  world  that  shines  in  a  distance  fair 

Like  a  fairy  dream,  impossibly  sweet, — ■ 

Was  life  what  it  seem'd  when  we  liv'd  out  there  ? 

Or  was  it  only  a  lovely  deceit  ? 


HARRY.  135 

r 

Slu^'Der  approach'd  not  my  eyes — open'cl  wide — 

My  wide-open  eyes  that  so  seldom  weep  ! 

Harry  turn'd  in  his  sleep,  and  turning  sigh'd — 

t 
It  breaks  my  heart  when  he  sighs  in  his  sleep. 


And  while  I  sat  there  in  the  twilight-gloom, 
Looking  at  life  with  my  wide-open  eyes, 
A  ghost  slipp'd  suddenly  into  the  room, 
And  that  ghost  was  the  ghost  of  Jack  Devize  ! 

A  shiver  ran  o'er  me  from  head  to  foot — 
The  crisis  had  come,  and  fate  wrought  her  worst — 
I  tried  to  speak,  but  my  tongue  was  quite  mute, 
And  1  knew  that  a  ghost  could  not  speak  first. 


O  ought  I  to  wake  my  Harry,  or  no  ? 
To  question  the  Thing,  and  let  it  depart  ? 
The  good  God  would  never  frighten  me  so, 
If  it  was  not  to  ease  my  Harry's  heart. 


136  HARRY. 

But  while  I  was  doubting  in  fear  and  pain, 
And  praying  for  light  to  see  my  way  clear, 
The  ghost  said — '  My  goodness  !  it's  Mrs.  Vane  ! 
How  in  the  world  did  the  woman  come  here  ? ' 


HARRY.  H7 


The  ghost  stalk'd  towards  me  with  outstretch'd  hand 
I  put  mine  behind  me,  and  back'd  away  ; 
My  terrified  brain  could  not  understand, 
And  my  arid  lips  had  nothing  to  say. 

Yet  for  Harry's  sake  no  time  must  be  lost  : 
I  must  ask  the  dreadful  Thing  why  it  came  ; 
Then  I  remember  d  'twas  he  kill'd  the  ghost, 
And  I  hung  down  my  head  and  blush'd  for  shame. 


Suddenly  turning,  my  Harry  it  saw  ; 

Suddenly  sprang  t'wards  the  couch  where  he  lay  ;- 

A  deadlier  terror  conquering  awe, 

Hi  mvc  as  a  lion,  I  stood  in  its  way. 


138  HARRY. 

I  wav'd  both  my  hands  to  signal  it  back  : 

1  You  shall  not  come  near  him  ! '   I  wildly  said  ; 

'  He  never  intended  to  kill  you,  Jack — 

0  Jack,  I  hope  you  don't  mind  being  dead  ! ' 

Strive  as  we  will,  fate  can  calmly  defeat — 
What  is  to  be,  happens — and  always  will ; 
Harry  awoke,  and  stood  up  on  his  feet, 
And  my  heart  leapt  madly  and  then  stood  still. 

1  trembled  for  Harry,  all  unprepar'd  ! 

I  stood  between  the  Alive  and  the  Dead  ! 
The  man  and  the  ghost  at  each  other  star'd — 
And  the  man  got  white,  and  the  ghost  got  red. 

The  man  kept  on  staring  with  hungry  eyes, 
Pointing  at  it,  till  I  trembled  to  see  ; 
Then  said  in  a  whisper,  '  It's  Jack  Devize  !' — 
Shook  himself  wildly  and  turn'd  upon  me. 


HARRY.  139 

t 
His  hand  sought  his  brow  in  a  weak  sad  way, 

A  pitiful  look  came  into  his  face  : 

'  It  is  a  brain -phantom,'  I  heard  him  say, 

0 

'  Which  my  weary  brain  engenders  in  space  ! ' 

'No,  Harry,'   I  whisper' d,   'it  is  not  so  ; 
I  wish  that  it  was — from  my  heart  I  do ' — 
I  held  him  tight,  whispering  very  low, 
'Tis  a  real  ghost,  for — I  see  it  too  !  ' 


I  felt  his  arm  quiver  under  my  clasp  ; 
He  started  backwards  with  such  a  great  start ; 
He  flung  up  his  arms,  and  cried  with  a  gasp, 
'  Oh  speak  to  me,  Jack,  whatever  thou  art  ! ' 

The  ghost  caught  his  hands  with  a  cheer  almost, 
And  shook  them  right  manfully  where  it  stood, 
Shouting  '  I  m  neither  a  phantom  nor  ghost ; 
I  am  Jack  Devize,  and  am  flesh  and  blood  !' 


140  HARRY. 


And  so  the  sorrow  was  only  a  dream 
(As  the  sun  uprises  the  dream  departs)  ; 
And  the  false,  false  sorrow  did  only  seem, 
And  the  true  true  joy  came  into  our  hearts. 

I  had  so  determin'd  to  be  resign'd, 
And  to  school  myself  to  a  patient  mood, 
That  I  felt  a  little  ill-used  to  find 
There  was  no  occasion  for  being  good. 


But  oh  the  joy,  like  the  sweetest  surprise, 
With  a  light,  light  heart  and  nothing  to  bear 
And  oh,  to  be  looking  in  Harry's  eyes 
And  never  a  fear  of  what  I  see  there  ! 


HARRY.  141 


And  when  earth  is  deck'd  in  eternal  spring, 
Singing  we  go  on  a  flowery  way  ; 
And  happiness  is  such  a  happy  thing, 
And  it  seems  so  natural  to  be  gay. 


I  think  that  the  dullest  will  understand 

Jack  was  not  drown'd  when  he  fell  from  the  height  ; 

A  ship  passing  by,  as  if  it  was  plann'd, 

Carried  him  off  mid  the  darkness  of  night. 

He  was  up  to  the  neck  in  debts  and  scrapes  ; 

And  when  the  west  wind  refreshingly  blew, 

He  thought  it  the  pleasantest  of  escapes 

To  sail  for  new  worlds  with  nothing  to  do. 

Strolling  and  idling  by  day  and  by  night, 

He  lived  by  his  wits,  with  a  laugh  for  fate  ; 

I  his  wits  not  being  extremely  bright, 
I !     icco  nplish'd  nothing  remarkably  great. 


H2  HARRY. 

Wandering  ev'rywhere,  ragged  and  poor, 
With  nothing  to  do  and  plenty  to  say, 
By  the  merest  chance  he  enter' d  our  door 
To  ask  for  a  meal  and  a  bed  by  the  way. 


So  the  three  of  us  met  delighted  there, 
And  set  sail  together  that  perfect  spring, 
When  the  skies  were  fine  and  the  winds  were  fair, 
And  our  hearts  were  lighter  than  anything. 

From  the  midst  of  the  sea  the  white  cliffs  rise — 
The  snowy  white  cliffs  of  the  ocean  gem  ! 
And  they  smile  their  welcome  into  our  eyes 
As  Harry  and  I  smile  it  back  on  them. 

Standing  together  alone  on  the  deck, 
With  a  hope  that  almost  becomes  a  fear, 
We  can  watch  that  wonderful  little  speck 
Grow  into  places  unspeakably  dear. 


HARRY.  143 

r 

Is  it  years  or  days  since  we  sail'd  away  ? 
And  are  we  returning  the  self-same  track  ? 

Did  we  cross  the  ocean  but  yesterday  ? 

0 

And  is  it  to-day  we  are  coming  back  ? 

Back  to  the  home  whence  he  vanish' d  that  night, 
In  through  the  hall  where  I  talk'd  with  the  men, — - 
Can  it  be  true  that  our  hearts  are  so  light  ? 
When  did  we  dream  ?  Is  it  now  ?  Was  it  then  ? 


And  oh  !  to  stand  on  the  well-known  road 
In  the  bright  uncertain  English  weather ; 
And  oh  !  the  hearts  that  are  free  from  a  load, 
And  oh  !  the  hands  that  are  knit  together! 


And  oh  !  to  see  Rover  leap  to  his  side 
With  a  yell  as  if  he  doubted  his  sight  ! 
I  thought  the  old  dog  would  have  really  died 
In  his  vehement  agony  of  delight. 


144  HARR  Y. 

And  I  know  the  present  is  not  a  dream, 
For  I  feel  a  touch  and  a  well-known  kiss  ; 
And  they  are  not  phantoms  that  shine  and  gleam 
From  days  that  are  past  with  a  solemn  bliss. 

From  days  that  are  lit  by  a  heaven-ray, 

To  kindle  our  hearts  and  strengthen  our  faith  ; 

For  Harry  and  I  are  changed  in  a  way, 

Like  people  whose  eyes  have  looked  upon  death.1 

My  Harry  has  won  such  a  patient  mood, 
And  has  grown  so  resolute  and  so  wise ; 
He  is  always  trying  to  do  some  good, 
And  always  succeeding  in  what  he  tries. 

The  trials  I  trembled  that  he  should  bear, 
His  noble  heart  has  accepted  as  such  ; 
And  I  see  they  were  sent  with  a  tender  care, 
And  never  intended  to  be  too  much. 

1  For  she  had  look'd  upon  a  great  man's  death 
And  she  was  changed. 

Queen  Isabel,  by  Menei.la  Smedeey. 


HARRY.  145 


My  heart  is  too  full  of  its  joy,  I  fear, 

When  he  whispers  in  fond  caressing  tone — 

'  It  was  not  my  trials  that  won  me,  dear ; 

0 
It  was  watching  my  darling  bear  her  own.' 

Afar  from  the  hut  in  the  dusky  wood, 

We  sometimes  recall  with  a  yearning  sigh, 
t 
The  days  of  our  sorrowful  solitude, 

When  the  world  was  nothing  but  he  and  I. 


NOW     READY. 


,   A  NEW  LIFE  OF  CHARLOTTE  BRONTE: 

CHARLOTTE    BRONTE: 

A  MONOGRAPH. 

By    T.    WEMYSS     REID. 

With  Illustrations  and  Facsimile  of  a  Characteristic  Letter. 
One  Volume,  iamo.  Cloth,  $1.50. 


Mr.  Reid's  little  volume,  which  is  based  largely  on  letters,  hitherto  un 
publisl^d,  from  Charlotte  Bronte  to  her  school -fellow  and  life-long  friend, 
Miss  Ellen  Nussey,  is  meant  to  be  a  companion,  and  not  a  rival,  to  Mrs. 
Gaskell's  well-known  "Life."  To  speak  of  the  advantage  of  making 
biography  autobiographical  by  the  liberal  use  of  correspondence  has  become 
a  commonplace ;  but  in  no  instance  could  the  value  of  letters  be  more 
apparent  than  in  telling  the  story  of  Currer  Bell.  The  publication  of  these 
letters  will  go  far  towards  clearing  away  one  of  the  commonest  of  errors 
as  to  the  author  of  "  Jane  Eyre,"  and  showing  that,  far  from  being  the 
morbid  and  melancholy  soul  she  has  sometimes  been  represented,  she  was 
by  nature  (as  Mr.  Reid  puts  it)  "a  happy  and  high-spirited  girl,  and  that 
even  to  the  very  last  she  had  the  faculty  of  overcoming  her  sorrows  by 
means  of  that  steadfast  courage  which  was  her  most  precious  possession, 
and  to  which  she  was  indebted  for  her  successive  victories  over  trials  and 
disappointments  of  no  ordinary  character." 

The  book  is  illustrated  by  a  Portrait  of  the  Rev.  Patrick  Bronte,  sev- 
eral Views  of  Haworth  and  its  neighborhood,  and  a  facsimile  of  one  of  the 
most  characteristic  of  Charlotte's  letters. 

***  The  above  book  Jor  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  will  be  sent,  prepaid,  upon 
receipt  0/  the  J>rice  by 

SCRIBNER,  ARMSTRONG  &  CO.,  Publishers, 

743  &  745  Broadway,  New  York. 


READY    JUNE    gth. 

[The  authentic  Life  of  the  author  of "  The  Confessions  of  an  Opium  Eater."] 

THOMAS    DE    QUINCEY 

HIS    LIFE   AND   WRITINGS. 

With   Unpublished  Correspondence. 
BY  H.  A.  PAGE. 

WITH  A  NEW  WOODBURYTYPE  PORTRAIT  OF  DE  QUINCEY. 
Two  volumes,  12mo.  Cloth,  Gilt  Top,  $4.00. 


The  numerous  admirers  in  this  country  of  the  author  of  "  The  Confessior 
of  an  Opium  Eater  "  will  eagerly  welcome  this  authentic  and  standard  lii 
of  one  who  occupies  so  unique  a  position  in  English  literature.  The  vo 
umes  form  a  valuable  addition  to  the  rich  English  stock  of  literary  men 
ories.  Mr.  Page  has  been  intrusted  by  the  family  of  De  Quincey  with  h: 
entire  literary  remains,  including  many  letters  fr.om  the  Lake  Poets,  Pro 
Wilson,  Thomas  Carlyle,  and  others,  and  has  had  the  co  operation  of  a 
who  could  add  anything  to  the  interest  and  value  of  the  biography. 

Many  letters  from  De  Quincey  to  the  members  of  his  own  family,  here  fc 
the  first  time  made  public,  give  a  cheerful  view  of  his  home  life  and  affec 
tions,  which  will  go  far  towards  removing  the  sadness  and  gloom  .which  ar 
£0  often  associated  with  his  name. 

Mr.  James  Hogg,  the  former  publisher  of  De  Quincey's  works,  who  wa 
upon  terms  of  intimate  friendship  with  him  during  the  later  years  of  his  lift 
has  contributed  some  fresh  reminiscences  ;  and  Dr.  Eatwell,  F.R.S.,  ha 
written,  in  an  appendix,  uppn  the  "  Medical  View  of  De  Quincey's  Case, 
throwing  new  light  upon  his  opium  eating.  A  thorough  index  make 
reference  to  any  part  of  the  volumes  easy,  and  a  fine  portrait  of  De  Quincey 
handsomely  mounted,  faces  the  title-page. 

*#*  The  above  book,for   sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  will  be  sent  prepaid,  upo: 
r€ceij>t  of  the  price  by 

SCRIBNER,  ARMSTRONG  &  CO.,  Publishers, 

743  &  745  Broadway,  New  York 


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